STORY  '. 
J\UL  JONE 


ALFRED 
HENRY 
LEWIS 


4V  & 


I 


Planter  Paul  Jones  deals  Lieutenant  Parker  a  blow  with  his  clenched  fist. 
Frontispiece.  Page  70. 


THE 

Story  of  Paul  Jones 

An  Historical  Romance 


BY 

ALFRED   HENRY  LEWIS 


AUTHOR    OF 


"  WOLFVILLE,"  "THE  BOSS,"  "PEGGY  O'NEAL,"  "THE  SUNSET  TRAIL, 
"THE  THROWBACK,"  ETC. 


Illustrations  by 

Seymour  M.  Stone  and  Phillipps  Ward 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1905,  1906,  BY 
INTERNATIONAL   MAGAZINE   COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  BY 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 
Issued  May,  1906 


THE  STORY  OF  PAUL  JONES 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     His  BAPTISM  OF  THE  SEA 7 

II.     IN  THE  BLACK  TRADE 15 

III.  THE    YELLOW    JACK 30 

IV.  THE  KILLING  OF  MUNGO 48 

V.    THE  SAILOR  TURNS  PLANTER 58 

VI.     THE  FIRST  BLOW  IN  VIRGINIA 67 

VII.     THE  BLAST  OF  WAR 77 

VIII.     THE  PLANTER  TURNS  LIEUTENANT 1)1 

IX.     THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  "  PROVIDENCE  " 102 

X.     THE  COUNSEL  OF  CADWALADER 110 

XL     THE  GOOD  SHIP  RANGER 124 

XII.     How  THE  "  RANGER  "  TOOK  THE  "  DRAKE  " 136 

XIII.  THE    DUCHESS   OF    CHA.RTRES 150 

XIV.  THE  SAILING  OF  THE  "  RICHARD  " 1G5 

XV.     THE  "  RICHARD  "  AND  THE  "  SERAPIS  " 181 

XVI.     How  THE  BATTLE  RAGED 192 

XVII.     THE  SURRENDER  OF  THE  "  SERAPIS  " 204 

XVIII.     DIPLOMACY  AND  THE  DUTCH 215 

XIX.     Now  FOR  THE  TRAITOR  LANDAIS 223 

XX.     AIMEE  ADELE  DE  TELISON 235 

XXL     ANTONY  AND   CLEOPATRA 240 

XXII.     THE  FETE  OF  THE  DUCHESS  DE  CHARTRES 248 

XXIII.     THE  WEDDING  WITHOUT  BELLS 257 

XXIV.     THE  HONEYMOON  SUB  ROSA 2G7 

XXV.     CATHERINE  OF  RUSSIA 274 

XXVI.     AN  ADMIRAL  OF   RUSSIA 282 

XXVII.     THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  RUE  TOURNON 288 

XXVIII.     LOVE  AND  THOSE  LAST  DAYS 300 

988759 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Planter  Paul  Jones  deals  Lieutenant  Parker  a  blow  with  his 

clenched  fist Frontispiece,    76 

"And  may  I  go,  father?" 13 

"  No,  Jack,  it's  death  " 62 

"In  making  you  a  lieutenant  we  lay  the  corner-stone  of  the 

American  Navy  " 98 

The  flag  is  bent  on  the  halyards  and  "  broken  out  " 100 

"  Quilted  of  cloth  ravished  from  their  virgin  petticoats  " 128 

The  capture  of  the  Serapis 204 

The  girl  with  the  red-gold  hair 300 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

CHAPTER   I 

HIS   BAPTISM    OF   THE   SEA 

This  is  in  the  long-ago,  or,  to  be  exact,  in  July, 
1759.  The  new  brig  Friendship,  not  a  fort 
night  off  the  stocks,  is  lying  in  her  home  harbor 
of  Whitehaven,  being  fitted  to  her  first  suit  of 
sails.  Captain  Bennison  is  restlessly  about  her 
decks,  overseeing  those  sea-tailors,  the  sail-makers, 
as  they  go  forward  with  their  task,  when  Mr. 
Younger,  the  owner,  comes  aboard.  The  latter 
gentleman  is  lowland  Scotch,  stout,  middle-aged, 
and  his  severe  expanse  of  smooth-shaven  upper- 
lip  tells  of  prudence,  perseverance  and  Presby- 
terianism  in  even  parts,  as  traits  dominant  of  his 
character. 

"  Dick,"  says  Mr.  Younger,  addressing  Captain 

7 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Bennison,  "  ye '11  have  a  gude  brig;  and  mon!  ye 
s'uld  have  a  gude  crew.  There'll  be  none  of  the 
last  in  Whitehaven,  for  what  ones  the  agents 
showed  me  were  the  mere  riff-raff  of  the  sea.  I'll 
even  go  to  Arbigland,  and  pick  ye  a  crew  among 
the  fisher  people/' 

"  Arbigland!"  repeats  Captain  Bennison,  with 
a  glow  of  approval.  "  The  Arbigland  men  are 
the  best  sailor-folk  that  ever  saw  the  Solway. 
Give  me  an  Arbigland  crew,  James,  and  I'll  find 
ye  the  Kappahannock  with  the  Friendship,  within 
the  month  after  she  tears  her  anchor  out  o '  White- 
haven  mud." 

And  so  Mr.  Younger  goes  over  to  Arbigland. 

It  is  a  blowing  July  afternoon.  An  off-shore 
breeze,  now  freshening  to  a  gale,  tosses  the  Sol- 
way  into  choppy  billows.  Most  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Arbigland  are  down  at  the  mouth  of  the  little 
tide-water  creek,  that  forms  the  harbor  of  the  vil 
lage,  eagerly  watching  a  small  fishing  yawl.  The 
latter  craft  is  beating  up  in  the  teeth  of  the  gale, 
striving  for  the  shelter  of  the  creek. 

The  crew  of  the  yawl  consists  of  but  one,  and 

8 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

him  a  lad  of  twelve.  His  right  hand  holds  the 
tiller;  with  the  left  he  slacks  or  hauls  the  sheets, 
and  shifts  the  sail  when  he  goes  about. 

The  yawl  has  just  heeled  over  on  the  starboard 
tack,  as  Mr.  Younger  pushes  in  among  the  vil 
lagers  that  crowd  the  little  quay. 

"  They'll  no  make  it!"  exclaims  a  fisherman, 
alluding  to  the  boy  and  yawl;  "  they'll  be  blawn 
oot  t'  sea!'7 

"  Ay!  they'll  make  it  sure  enough,"  declares 
another  stoutly.  "  It's  little  Jack  Paul  who's 
conning  her,  and  he'd  bring  the  yawl  in  against 
a  horrycane.  She's  a  gude  boat,  too— as  quick 
on  her  feet  as  a  dancing  maister;  and,  as  for  beat 
ing  to  wind'ard,  she'll  lay  a  point  closer  to  the 
wind  than  a  man  has  a  right  to  ask  of  his  lawful 
wedded  wife.  Ye '11  see;  little  Jack '11  bring  her 
in." 

"  Who  is  he?"  asks  Mr.  Younger  of  the  last 
speaker;  "  who's  yon  boy?" 

"  He's  son  to  John  Paul,  gardener  to  the  laird 
Craik." 

"  Sitha!  son  to  Gardener  Paul,  quo'  you!" 

9 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

breaks  in  an  old  fish-wife  who,  with  red  arms 
folded  beneath  her  coarse  apron,  stands  watching 
the  yawl  with  the  others.  "  Now  to  my  mind, 
he  looks  mair  like  the  laird  than  I  s'uld  want  my 
son  to  look,  if  I  were  wife  to  Gardener  Paul. ' ' 

"  Shame  for  ye,  Lucky !"  cries  the  fisherman 
to  whom  she  speaks.  "  Would  ye  cast  doots  on 
the  lad's  mither,  and  only  because  the  lad  in  his 
favoring  makes  ye  think  now  and  again  on  Mais- 
ter  Craik?  Jeanny  Paul,  that  was  Jeanny  Mac- 
duff,  is  well  kenned  to  be  as  caref u '  a  wife  as  ever 
cooked  her  man's  breakfast  in  Arbigland." 

"  Ye  think  so,  Tarn  Brycef  "  retorts  the  incor 
rigible  Lucky.  "  Much  ye  s'uld  know  of  the 
wives  of  Arbigland,  and  you  to  sea  eleven  months 
o '  the  year !  I  tell  ye,  Jeanny  came  fro '  the  High 
lands  ;  and  it  '11  be  lang,  I  trow,  since  gude  in  shape 
of  man  or  woman  came  oot  o '  the  Highlands. ' ' 

"  Guide  your  tongue,  Lucky!"  remonstrates 
the  other,  in  a  low  tone;  "  guide  your  tongue,  ye 
jade!  Here  comes  Gardener  Paul  himsel'." 

"  I'll  no  stay  to  meet  him,"  says  Lucky,  moving 
away.  "  Puir  blinded  fule!  not  to  see  what  all 

10 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Arbigland,  ay!  and  all  Kirkbean  Parish,  too,  for 
that  matter,  has  seen  the  twal  years,  that  his  boy 
Jack  is  no  mair  no  less  than  just  the  laird's  bairn 
when  all's  said." 

"  Ye '11  no  mind  her,  Maister  Younger,"  says 
Tom  Bryce,  pointing  after  Lucky;  "  although,  to 
be  preceese,  what  the  carline  tells  has  in  it  mair 
of  truth  than  poetry." 

"  I  was  no  thinking  on  the  dame's  clack,"  re 
turns  Mr.  Younger,  his  eyes  still  on  the  nearing 
yawl,  "  or  whether  yon  lad's  a  gardener's  bairn 
or  a  gentleman 's  by-blaw.  What  I  will  say,  in  the 
face  of  the  sun,  however,  is  that  he  has  in  him 
the  rudiments  of  as  brisk  a  sailonnan  as  ever 
walked  saut  water." 

"  There'll  be  none  that's  better,"  observes  Tom 
Bryce,  "  going  in  and  oot  o'  Solway  Firth." 
Then,  eyeing  the  yawl:  "  He'll  win  to  the  creek's 
mouth  on  the  next  reach  to  sta 'board." 

Gardener  Paul  joins  Mr.  Younger  and  the  fisher 
man,  Tom  Bryce. 

"  We  were  talking  of  your  son,"  says  Mr. 
Younger  to  Gardener  Paul.  "  What  say  ye,  mon; 

11 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

will  ye  apprentice  him?  I'll  send  him  with  Dick 
Bennison,  in  my  new  brig  Friendship,  to  the  Vir 
ginias  and  Jamaica. " 

John  Paul,  gardener  to  the  laird,  Robert  Craik, 
is  a  dull  man,  notably  thick  of  wit,  and  slow. 

"  The  Virginias!  "  he  repeats.  "  My  son  Wil 
liam  has  been  there  these  sixteen  year.  He's  head 
man  for  my  kinsman  Jones,  on  his  plantation  by 
the  Rappahannock.  If  Jack  sails  with  Dick  Ben 
nison,  he'll  meet  William  that  he's  never  seen." 

"  He'll  see  his  brother  for  sure,"  returns 
Mr.  Younger.  ' '  The  Friendship  goes  from  White- 
haven  to  Urbana,  and  that's  not  a  dozen  miles 
down  the  Eappahannock  from  your  cousin's  plan 
tation." 

The  yawl  has  come  safely  into  the  creek's 
mouth,  and  lies  rocking  at  her  moorings  as  lightly 
as  a  gull.  The  lad  leaps  ashore,  and  is  patted 
on  the  back  by  the  fisherman  in  praise  of  his  sea 
manship.  He  smiles  through  the  salt  water  that 
drips  from  his  face;  for  beating  to  windward  is 
not  the  driest  point  of  sailing,  and  the  lad  is  spray- 
soaked  from  head  to  heel. 

12 


"And  may  I  go,  father?" 


Page  13. 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  This  is  Mr.  Younger,  Jack/'  says  Gardener 
Paul,  as  the  lad  comes  up.  ' '  He  wants  ye  to  sail 
'prentice  with  Dick  Bennison,  in  the  new  brig. ' ' 

The  difference  to  show  between  Gardener  Paul 
and  little  Jack  Paul,  as  the  pair  stand  together  on 
the  quay,  goes  far  to  justify  those  innuendoes  of 
the  scandalous  Lucky.  Gardener  Paul's  heavy 
peasant  face  possesses  nothing  to  mark,  on  his 
part,  any  blood-nearness  to  the  boy,  whose  olive 
skin,  large  brown  eyes,  clean  profile  and  dark  hair 
like  silk,  speak  only  of  the  patrician. 

"  And  may  I  go,  father?"  asks  Jack,  a  flush 
breaking  eagerly  through  the  tan  on  his  cheek. 

"  Ye  might  as  weel,  I  think,"  responds  Gar 
dener  Paul  judgmatically.  "  Ye 're  the  born 
petrel;  and  for  the  matter  of  gardening,  being 
my  own  and  Adam's  trade,  I've  kenned  for  lang 
ye '11  no  mair  touch  spade  or  mattock  than  handle 
coals  of  fire.  So,  as  I  was  saying,  ye  might  as 
weel  sail  'prentice  with  Dick;  and  when  ye  meet 
your  brother  William,  gi'  him  his  father's  gude 
word.  Ye '11  never  have  seen  William,  Jack,  for 
he  left  hame  before  ye  were  born;  and  so  it'll  be 

13 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

a  braw  fore-gathering  between  the  twa  of  ye— 
being  brothers  that  never  met  before. ' ' 

And  after  this  fashion  the  fisher-boy,  John 
Paul,  afterward  Admiral  Paul  Jones,  is  given  his 
baptism  of  the  sea. 


CHAPTER   II 

IN   THE   BLACK   TRADE 

The  sun  is  struggling  through  the  dust-coated, 
cobwebbed  windows,  and  lighting  dimly  yet  suf 
ficiently  the  dingy  office  of  Shipowner  Younger 
of  Whitehaven.  That  substantial  man  is  sitting 
at  his  desk,  eyes  fixed  upon  the  bristle  of  up 
standing  masts  which  sprout,  thick  as  forest  pines 
on  a  hillside,  from  the  harbor  basin  below.  The 
face  of  Shipowner  Younger  has  been  given  the 
seasoning  of  several  years,  since  he  went  to  Ar- 
bigland  that  squall-torn  afternoon,  to  pick  up 
a  crew  for  Dick  Bennison.  Also,  Shipowner 
Younger  shines  with  a  new  expression  of  high  yet 
retiring  complacency.  The  expression  is  one  aw 
ful  and  fascinating  to  the  clerk,  who  sits  at  the 
far  end  of  the  room.  Shipowner  Younger  has 
been  elected  to  Parliament,  and  his  awful  com 
placency  is  that  elevation's  visible  sign.  The 

15 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

knowledge  of  his  master's  election  offers  the  basis 
of  much  of  the  clerk's  awe,  and  that  stipendary 
almost  charms  himself  into  the  delusion  that  he 
sees  a  halo  about  the  bald  pate  of  Shipowner 
Younger. 

The  latter  brings  the  spellbound  clerk  from  his 
trance  of  fascination,  by  wheeling  upon  him. 

"  Did  ye  send  doon,  mon,"  he  cries,  "  to  my 
wharf,  with  word  for  young  Jack  Paul  to 
come?  " 

The  clerk  says  that  he  did. 

"  Then  ye  can  go  seek  your  denner." 

The  clerk,  acting  on  this  permission,  scrambles 
to  his  fascinated  feet.  As  he  retires  through  the 
one  door,  young  Jack  Paul  enters.  The  brown- 
faced  boy  of  the  Arbigland  yawl  has  grown  to 
be  a  brisk  young  sailor,  taut  and  natty.  He  shakes 
the  hand  of  Shipowner  Younger,  who  gives  him 
two  fingers  in  that  manner  of  condescending  re 
serve,  which  he  conceives  to  be  due  his  dignity 
as  a  member  of  the  House  of  Commons.  Having 
done  so  much  for  his  dignity,  Shipowner  Younger 
relaxes. 

16 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 


"  Have  a  chair,  lad!"  lie  says.  "  Bring  her 
here  where  we  can  chat.77 

The  natty  Jack  Paul  brings  the  clerk's  chair, 
as  being  the  only  one  in  the  room  other  than  that 
occupied  by  Shipowner  Younger.  One  sees  the 
thorough-paced  sailor  in  the  very  motions  of  him; 
for  his  step  is  quick,  catlike  and  sure,  and  there 
is  just  the  specter  of  a  roll  in  his  walk,  as  though 
the  heaving  swell  of  the  ocean  still  abides  in  his 
heels.  When  he  has  placed  the  chair,  so  as  to 
bring  himself  and  Shipowner  Younger  face  to 
face,  he  says: 

"  And  now,  sir,  what  are  your  commands?" 

"I'll  have  sent  for  ye,  Jack,"  begins  Ship 
owner  Younger,  portentously  lengthening  the 
while  his  shaven  upper-lip—"  I'll  have  sent  for  ye, 
for  three  several  matters:  To  pay  ye  a  compliment 
or  twa;  to  gi'  ye  a  gude  lecture;  an'  lastly  to  do 
a  trifle  of  business  wi'  ye,  by  way  of  rounding 
off.  For  I  hold,"  goes  on  Shipowner  Younger, 
in  an  admonishing  tone,  "  that  conversations 
which  don't  carry  a  trifle  of  business  are  no  mair 
than  just  the  crackle  of  thorns  under  a  pot.  Ye '11 
2  17 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

ken  I'm  rich,  Jack— ye '11  ken  I  can  clink  my  gold, 
an'  count  my  gold,  an'  keep  my  gold  wi'  the  warm 
est  mon  in  Whitehaven?" 

Young  Jack  Paul  smiles,  and  nods  his  full 
agreement. 

11  But  ye '11  no  ken,"  goes  on  Shipowner 
Younger,  with  proud  humility,  the  pride  being- 
real  and  the  humility  imitated—"  ye '11  no  ken, 
I  believe,  that  I'm  'lected  to  the  Parleyment 
in  Lunnon,  lad?  '  Shipowner  Younger  pauses  to 
observe  the  effect  of  this  announcement  of  his 
greatness.  Being  satisfied,  he  goes  on.  "It's  a 
sacrifeece,  no  doot,  but  I  s'all  make  it.  The  King- 
has  need  of  my  counsel;  an',  God  save  him!  he 
s'all  have  it.  For  I've  always  said,  lad,  that  a 
mon's  first  debt  is  to  the  King.  But  it'll  mean 
sore  changes,  Jack,  sore  changes  will  it  mean;  for 
I'm  to  sell  up  my  ships  to  the  last  ship's  gig  of 
'em,  the  better  to  leave  me  hand-free  and  head- 
free  to  serve  the  King. ' ' 

Young  Jack  Paul  is  polite  enough  to  arch 
his  brows  and  draw  a  serious  face.  Shipowner 
Younger  is  pleased  at  this,  and,  with  a  depreca- 

18 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

tory  wave  of  his  hand,  as  one  who  dismisses  dis 
cussion  of  misfortunes  which  are  beyond  the  help 
of  words,  proceeds : 

"  But  enou'  of  idle  clavers;  I'll  e'en  get  to  what 
for  I  brought  you  here."  Shipowner  Younger 
leans  far  back  in  his  big  chair,  and  contemplates 
young  Jack  Paul  with  a  twinkle.  "  Now,  lad," 
he  begins,  "  when  from  'prentice  ye  are  come  to 
be  first  mate  among  my  ships,  I'm  to  tell  ye  that 
from  Dick  Bennison  who  signed  ye,  to  Ed'ard 
Denbigh  whose  first  officer  ye  now  be,  all  the 
captains  ye've  sailed  wi'  declare  ye  a  finished  sea 
man.  But  '  —here  Shipowner  Younger  shakes 
his  head  as  though  administering  reproof—"  they 
add  that  ye  be  ower  handy  wi'  your  fists." 

"  Why,  then,"  breaks  in  young  Jack  Paul, 
11  how  else  am  I  to  keep  my  watch  in  order!  Be 
sides,  I  hold  it  more  humane  to  strike  with  your 
fist  than  with  a  belaying  pin.  The  captains,  I'll 
warrant,  have  told  you  I  thrashed  none  but  ship's 
bullies." 

"  They'll  have  told  me  nothing  of  the  kind," 
returns  Shipowner  Younger.  '  *  They  said  naught 

19 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

of  bullies.  What  they  did  observe  was  that  ye 
just  pounded  the  faces  of  the  foVsle  hands  in 
the  strict  line  of  duty.  Why,  they  said  the  whole 
ship's  crew  loved  ye  like  collie  dogs!  It  seems 
yeVe  a  knack  of  thrashing  yourself  into  their 
hearts." 

Young  Jack  Paul's  eyes  show  pleasure  and  re 
lief;  he  perceives  he  is  not  being  scolded. 

"  And  now,"  says  Shipowner  Younger,  don 
ning  the  alert  manner  of  your  true-born  merchant 
approaching  pounds,  shillings  and  pence— "  and 
now,  having  put  the  compliments  and  the  lecture 
astern,  we'll  even  get  doon  to  business.  As  I  was 
tellin',  I'm  about  to  retire  from  the  ships.  I'm 
rich  enou';  and,  being  called  to  gi'  counsel  to  the 
King,  I  want  no  exter-aneous  interests  to  distract 
me.  The  fair  truth  is,  I've  sold  all  but  the  bark 
ye 're  now  wi',  the  John  0'  Gaunt,  ye '11  ken;  and 
that's  to  be  sold  to-day." 

"  You'll  sell  our  John  0'  Gaunt,  sir?  Who  is 
to  own  it!  ' 

"  Ed'ard  Denbigh,  your  captain,  is  to  own  five- 
sixths  of  her,  for  which  he'll  pay  five  thousand 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

pounds ;  being  dog-cheap  '  —here  a  deep  sigh— 
"  as  I'm  a  Christian!  As  for  the  remaining  sixth, 
lad,  why  it's  to  be  yours.  Ye '11  sail  oot  o'  White- 
haven  this  v'yage  in  your  own  ship,  partners  wi' 
Ed 'ard  Denbigh." 

"  But,  sir,"  protests  young  Jack  Paul,  his  voice 
startled  into  a  tremor,  ' '  with  all  thanks  for  your 
goodness,  I've  got  no  thousand  pounds.  You  know 
the  wages  of  a  mate. ' ' 

"  Ay!  I  ken  the  wages  of  a  mate  weel  enou'; 
I've  been  payin'  'em  for  thirty  year  come  New 
Year's  day.  But  ye '11  no  need  money,  Jack!" 
the  dry,  harsh  tones  grow  soft  with  kindliness— 
"  ye '11  no  need  money,  mon,  and  there's  the  joke 
of  it.  For  I'm  to  gi'  ye  your  one-sixth  of  the 
John  0'  Gaunt,  wi'  never  a  shillin'  from  your 
fingers,  and  so  make  a  man  and  a  merchant  of  ye 
at  a  crack.  Now,  no  words,  lad!  Ye've  been 
faithful;  and  I've  no'  forgot  that  off  Cape  Clear 
one  day  ye  saved  me  a  ship.  Ay!  ye '11  ken  by 
now  that  Jamie  Younger,  for  all  he's  'lected  to 
Parleyment  to  tell  the  King  his  mind,  is  no  so 
giddy  wi'  his  honors  as  to  forget  folk  who  serve 

21 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

him.  No  words,  I  tell  ye!  There  ye  be,  sailor 
and  shipowner  baith,  before  ye're  twenty-one. 
An' gude  go  wi'ye!" 

The  big-hearted  Scotchman  smothers  the  grati 
tude  on  the  lips  of  young  Jack  Paul,  and  hands 
him  out  the  door.  As  the  latter  goes  down  the 
stair,  Shipowner  Younger  calls  after  him  with  a 
kind  of  anticipatory  crow  of  exultation: 

'  And,  lad!  if  ye  get  ever  to  Lunnon,  come  doon 
to  Westminster,  and  see  me  just  passin'  the  laws!" 

The  John  0'  Gaunt  lies  off  the  Guinea  coast. 
The  last  one  of  its  moaning,  groaning,  black  cargo 
of  slaves  has  come  over  the  side  from  the  shore 
boats,  and  been  conveyed  below.  The  John  0' 
Gaunt  has  been  chartered  by  a  Bristol  firm  to 
carry  three  thousand  slaves  from  the  Guineas  to 
Kingston;  it  will  require  ten  voyages,  and  this  is 
the  beginning  of  the  first. 

The  three  hundred  unhappy  blacks  who  make 
the  cargo  are  between  decks.  There  they  squat  in 
four  ranks,  held  by  light  wrist-chains  to  two  great 
iron  cables  which  are  stretched  forward  and  aft. 

22 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

There  are  four  squatting  ranks  of  them ;  each  rank 
sits  face  to  face  with  its  fellow  rank  across  the 
detaining  cable.  Thus  will  they  sit  and  suffer, 
cramped  and  choked  and  half-starved  in  that 
tropical  hell  between  decks,  through  those  two- 
score  days  and  nights  which  lie  between  the 
John  0'  Gaunt  and  Kingston. 

Captain  Denbigh  keeps  the  deck  until  the  an 
chors  are  up.  The  wind  is  forward  of  the  beam, 
and  now,  when  its  canvas  is  shaken  out,  the 
John  0'  Gaunt  begins  to  move  through  the  water 
on  the  starboard  tack.  The  motion  is  slow  and 
sulky,  as  though  the  ship  were  sick  in  its  heart 
at  the  vile  traffic  it  has  come  to,  and  must  be 
goaded  by  stiffest  gales  before  it  consents  to 
any  show  of  speed.  Captain  Denbigh  leaves  the 
order,  ' '  West  by  north ! ' '  with  second  mate  Boggs, 
who  has  the  watch  on  deck;  and,  after  glancing 
aloft  at  the  sails  and  over  the  rail  at  the  weather, 
waddles  below  to  drink  "  Prosperous  voyage!  ' 
with  his  first  mate  and  fellow  owner,  young  Jack 
Paul. 

He  finds  that  youthful  mariner  gloomy  and  sad. 

23 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

The  cabin  where  the  two  are  berthed  is  roomy. 
At  one  end  is  a  case  of  bottles— brandy  and  rum, 
the  property  of  Captain  Denbigh.  At  the  other  is 
a  second  lock-fast  case,  filled  with  books,  the  sail 
ing  companions  of  first  mate  Jack  Paul.  There 
are  text-books—French,  Spanish,  Latin  and 
Greek;  for  first  mate  Jack  Paul  is  of  a  mind  to 
learn  languages  during  his  watch  below.  There 
are  books  on  navigation  and  astronomy,  as  well 
as  volumes  by  De  Foe  and  Richardson.  Also,  one 
sees  the  comedies  of  Congreve,  and  the  poems  of 
Alexander  Pope.  To  these  latter,  first  mate  Jack 
Paul  gives  much  attention;  his  inquiring  nose  is 
often  between  their  covers.  He  studies  English 
elegancies  of  speech  and  manner  in  Congreve, 
Pope  and  Richardson,  while  the  crop-eared  De  Foe 
feeds  his  fancy  for  adventure. 

As  Captain  Denbigh  rolls  into  the  cabin,  first 
mate  Jack  Paul  is  not  thinking  on  books.  He  has 
upon  his  mind  the  poor  black  wretches  between 
decks,  the  muffled  murmur  of  whose  groans,  to 
gether  with  the  clanking  of  their  wrist-chains, 
penetrates  the  bulkhead  which  forms  the  forward 

24: 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

cabin  wall.  Captain  Denbigh  never  heeds  the  si 
lence  and  the  sadness  of  his  junior  officer  and  part 
ner,  but  marches,  feet  spread  wide  and  sailorwise, 
to  the  locker  which  holds  his  bottles.  Making 
careful  selection,  he  brings  out  one  of  rum  and 
another  of  sherry. 

"  You  not  likin'  rum,"  explains  Captain  Den 
bigh,  as  he  sets  the  sherry  within  reach  of  first 
mate  Jack  Paul. 

First  mate  Jack  Paul  mechanically  fills  himself 
a  moderate  glass,  while  Captain  Denbigh  does 
himself  more  generous  credit  with  a  brimmer  from 
the  rum  bottle. 

"  Here's  to  the  good  ship  John  0'  Gaunt,"  cries 
Captain  Denbigh,  tossing  the  rum  down  his  ca 
pacious  throat.  '  *  May  it  live  to  carry  niggers  a 
hundred  years !  ' ' 

There  is  no  response  to  this  sentiment ;  but  Cap- 
tain  Denbigh  doesn't  feel  at  all  slighted,  and  sits 
down  comfortably  to  the  floor-fast  table,  the  ruin 
at  his  elbow.  Being  thus  disposed,  he  glances  at 
his  moody  companion. 

There  is  much  that  is  handsome  in  a  rough,  salt- 

25 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

water  way  about  Captain  Denbigh.  He  is  short, 
stout,  with  a  brown  pillar  of  a  throat,  and  shoul 
ders  as  square  as  his  yardarms.  His  thick  hair  is 
clubbed  into  a  cue;  there  are  gold  rings  in  his  ears, 
and  his  gray  eyes  laugh  as  he  looks  at  you. 

"  An'  now,  mate  Jack,"  says  Captain  Denbigh, 
cheerfully,  "  with  our  three  hundred  niggers 
stowed  snug,  an'  we  out'ard  bound  for  Jamaica, 
let  you  an'  me  have  a  bit  of  talk.  Not  as  cap'n 
an'  mate,  mind  you,  but  as  owners.  To  begin  with, 
then,  you  don't  like  the  black  trade?" 

First  mate  Jack  Paul  looks  up;  the  brown  eyes 
show  trouble  and  resolve. 

1 '  Captain, ' '  he  says,  ' '  it  goes  against  my  soul ! ' ' 
Then,  he  continues  apologetically:  "  Not  that  I  say 
aught  against  slavery,  which  I've  heard  chaplains 
and  parsons  prove  to  be  right  and  pious  by  Bible 
text.  Ay!  I've  heard  them  when  I've  been  to 
church  ashore,  with  my  brother  William  by  the 
Rappahannock.  My  kinsman  Jones  owns  slaves; 
and  I  can  see,  too,  that  they  have  safer,  happier 
lives  with  him  than  could  fall  to  their  lot  had  they 
remained  savages  in  the  wild  Guinea  woods.  But 

26 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

owning  slaves  by  the  Rappahannock,  where  you 
can  give  them  kindness  and  make  them  happy,  is 
one  thing.  This  carrying  the  tortured  creatures 
—chained,  and  mad  with  grief! — to  Jamaica  is 
another. ' ' 

Captain  Denbigh  refreshes  himself  with  more 
rum. 

"  It  wards  off  the  heat,"  he  vouchsafes,  in  ex 
tenuation  of  his  partiality  for  the  rum.  Having 
set  himself  right  touching  rum,  he  takes  up  the 
main  question:  "  What  can  we  do!"  he  asks. 
"  You  know  we're  chartered  for  ten  v'yages?" 

"  I'm  no  one  to  argue  with  my  captain,"  re 
sponds  first  mate  Jack  Paul.  ' '  Still  less  do  I  talk 
of  breaking  charters.  All  I  say  is,  it  makes  me 
heart-sore. ' ' 

"  Let  me  see!"  responds  Captain  Denbigh, 
searching  for  an  idea,  "  Your  brother  William 
tells  me,  the  last  time  we  takes  in  tobacco  from 
the  Jones  plantation,  that  old  William  Jones  is 
as  fond  o '  you  as  o '  him? ' ' 

"  That  is  true.  He  wanted  me  to  stay  ashore 
with  him  and  William,  and  give  up  the  sea." 

27 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

"  An'  why  not,  mate  Jack?" 

First  mate  Jack  Paul  shrugs  his  shoulders, 
which,  despite  his  youth,  are  as  broad  and  square 
as  his  captain's. 

"  Because  I  like  the  sea,"  says  he;  "  and  shall 
always  like  the  sea." 

Captain  Denbigh  takes  more  rum;  after  which 
he  sits  knitting  his  forehead  into  knots,  in  a  very 
agony  of  cogitation.  Finally  he  gives  the  table 
a  great  bang,  at  which  the  rum  bottle  jumps  in 
alarm. 

"I've  hit  it ! "  he  cries.  "I  knowed  I  would  if 
I'd  only  drink  rum  enough.  I  never  has  a  bright 
idea  yet,  I  don't  get  it  from  rum.  Here,  now,  mate 
Jack;  I'll  just  buy  you  out.  You  don't  like  the 
black  trade,  an'  you'll  like  it  less  an'  less.  It's 
your  readin'  books  does  it;  that,  an'  not  drinkin' 
rum.  Howsumever,  I'll  buy  you  out.  Then  you 
can  take  a  merchant-ship ;  or— an'  you  may  call  me 
no  seaman  if  that  ain't  what  I'd  do-you  sits 
down  comfortable  with  your  brother  an'  your  old 
kinsman  Jones  by  the  Eappahannock,  an'  plays 
gentleman  ashore. ' ' 

28 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 


While  Captain  Denbigh  talks,  the  trouble  fades 
from  the  face  of  first  mate  Jack  Paul. 

"  What's  that!"  he  cries.  "  You'll  buy  me 
out?" 

11  Ay,  lad!  as  sure  as  my  name's  Ed'ard  Den 
bigh.  That  is,  if  so  be  you  can  sell,  bein'  under 
age.  I  allows  you  can,  howsumever;  for  you're 
no  one  to  go  back  on  a  bargain. ' '  Having  thus  ad 
justed  to  his  liking  the  legal  doubt  suggested, 
Captain  Denbigh  turns  to  the  question  of  price. 
"  Master  Younger  puts  your  sixth  at  a  thousand 
pounds.  If  so  be  you'll  say  the  word,  mate  Jack, 
I'll  give  you  a  thousand  pounds." 

Countenance  brightened  with  a  vast  relief,  first 
mate  Jack  Paul  stretches  his  hand  across  the  table. 
Captain  Denbigh,  shifting  his  glass  to  the  left 
hand,  grasps  it. 

"  Done!"  says  first  mate  Jack  Paul. 

"  An'  done  to  you,  my  hearty!"  exclaims  Cap 
tain  Denbigh.  "  The  money '11  be  yours,  mate 
Jack,  as  soon  as  ever  we  sees  Kingston  light. 
An'  now  for  another  hooker  of  rum  to  bind  the 
bargain. ' ' 

29 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    YELLOW    JACK 

At  Kingston,  Captain  Denbigh  goes  ashore  with 
first  mate  Jack  Paul,  and  pays  over  in  Bank  of 
England  paper  those  one  thousand  pounds  which 
represent  that  one-sixth  interest  in  the  John 
0 'Gaunt.  While  the  pair  are  upon  this  bit  of 
maritime  business,  the  three  hundred  mournful 
blacks  are  landed  under  the  supervision  of  the 
second  mate.  Among  the  virtues  which  a  cargo  of 
slaves  possesses  over  a  shipment  of  cotton  or 
sugar  or  rum,  is  the  virtue  of  legs.  This  merit  is 
made  so  much  of  by  the  energetic  second  officer  of 
the  John  0 'Gaunt,  that,  within  half  a  day,  the 
last  of  the  three  hundred  blacks  is  landed  on  the 
Kingston  quay.  Received  and  receipted  for  by 
a  bilious  Spaniard  with  an  umbrella  hat,  who  is 
their  consignee,  the  blacks  are  marched  away  to 
the  stockade  which  will  confine  them  while  await- 

30 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 


ing  distribution  among  the  plantations.  Captain 
Denbigh  puts  to  sea  with  the  John  0 'Gaunt  in 
ballast  the  same  evening.  A  brisk  seaman,  and 
brisker  man  of  business,  is  Captain  Denbigh,  and 
no  one  to  spend  money  and  time  ashore,  when  he 
may  be  making  the  one  and  saving  the  other  afloat. 

First  mate  Jack  Paul,  his  fortune  of  one  thou 
sand  pounds  safe  in  the  strong-boxes  of  the 
Kingston  bank,  sallies  forth  to  look  for  a  ship. 
He  decides  to  go  passenger,  for  the  sake  of  see 
ing  what  it  is  like,  and  his  first  thought  is  to  visit 
his  brother  William  by  the  Kappahannock.  This 
fraternal  venture  he  forbears,  when  he  discovers 
Kingston  to  be  in  the  clutch  of  that  saffron  ter 
ror  the  yellow  fever.  Little  is  being  locally  said 
of  the  epidemic,  for  the  town  is  fearful  of  fright 
ening  away  its  commerce.  The  Kingston  heart, 
like  most  human  hearts,  thinks  more  of  its  own 
gold  than  of  the  lives  of  other  men.  AVherefore 
Kingston  is  sedulous  to  hide  the  plague  in  its 
midst,  lest  word  go  abroad  on  blue  water  and 
drive  away  the  ships. 

First  .mate  Jack  Paul  becomes  aware  of  Kings- 

31 


The     Story     of     Paul     Jones 

ton  for  the  death-trap  it  is  before  he  is  ashore 
two  days.  It  is  the  suspicious  multitude  of  funer 
als  thronging  the  sun-baked  streets,  that  gives 
him  word.  And  yet  the  grewsome  situation  owns 
no  peculiar  threat  for  him,  since  he  has  sailed 
these  blistering  latitudes  so  often  and  so  much 
that  he  may  call  himself  immune.  For  him,  the 
disastrous  side  is  that,  despite  the  Kingston  ef 
forts  at  concealment,  a  plague-whisper  drifted 
out  to  sea,  and  as  a  cautious  consequence  the 
Kingston  shipping  has  dwindled  to  be  nothing. 
This  scarcity  of  ships  vastly  interferes  with  that 
chance  of  a  passage  home. 

"  The  first  craft,  outward  bound  for  England, 
shall  do,"  thinks  first  mate  Jack  Paul.  "As  to 
William,  I'll  defer  my  visit  until  I  may  go  ashore 
to  him  without  bringing  the  yellow  jack  upon 
half  Virginia. " 

While  waiting  for  that  home-bound  ship,  first 
mate  Jack  Paul  goes  upon  a  pilgrimage  of  re 
spect  to  the  tomb  of  Admiral  Benbow.  That  sea- 
wolf  lies  buried  in  the  parish  chapel-yard  in  King 
Street. 

32 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 


As  first  mate  Jack  Paul  leaves  the  little  bury- 
ing-ground,  he  runs  foul  of  a  polite  adventure 
which,  in  its  final  expression,  will  have  effect  upon 
his  destiny.  His  aid  is  enlisted  in  favor  of  a  lady 
in  trouble. 

The  troubled  lady,  fat,  florid  and  forty,  is  being 
conveyed  along  King  Street  in  her  between,  a 
sort  of  sedan  chair  on  two  wheels,  drawn  by  a 
half-broken  English  horse.  The  horse,  excited  by 
a  funeral  procession  of  dancing,  singing,  shout 
ing  blacks,  capsizes  the  ketureen,  and  the  fat, 
florid  one  is  decanted  upon  the  curb  at  the  feet 
of  first  mate  Jack  Paul.  Alive  to  what  is  Chris 
tian  in  the  way  of  duty,  he  raises  the  florid,  fat 
decanted  one,  and  congratulates  her  upon  having 
suffered  no  harm. 

The  ketureen  is  restored  to  an  even  keel.  The 
fat,  florid  one  boards  it,  though  not  before  she 
invites  first  mate  Jack  Paul  to  dinner.  Being  idle, 
lonesome,  and  hungry  for  English  dishes,  he  ac 
cepts,  and  accompanies  the  fat,  florid  one  in  the 
dual  guise  of  guest  and  bodyguard. 

Sir  Holman  Hardy,  husband  to  the  fat,  florid 

33 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

one,  is  as  fatly  florid  as  his  spouse.  Incidentally 
he  is  in  command  of  what  British  soldiers  are 
stationed  at  Kingston.  The  fat,  florid  one  pre 
sents  first  mate  Jack  Paul  to  her  Hector,  tells  the 
tale  of  the  rescue,  and  thereupon  the  three  go  in 
to  dinner.  Later,  first  mate  Jack  Paul  and  his 
host  smoke  in  the  deep  veranda,  where,  during 
the  cool  of  the  evening,  Sir  Holman  drinks  san- 
garee,  and  first  mate  Jack  Paul  drinks  Madeira. 
Also  Sir  Holman  inveighs  against  the  Horse 
Guards  for  consigning  him  to  such  a  pit  of 
Tophet  as  is  Kingston. 

Between  sangaree  and  maledictions  levelled  at 
the  Horse  Guards,  Sir  Holman  gives  first  mate 
Jack  Paul  word  of  a  brig,  the  King  George's 
Packet,  out  of  China  for  Kingston  with  tea,  which 
he  looks  for  every  day.  Discharging  its  tea,  the 
King  George's  Packet  will  load  with  rum  for 
Whitehaven;  and  Sir  Holman  declares  that  first 
mate  Jack  Paul  shall  sail  therein,  a  passenger- 
guest,  for  home.  Sir  Holman  is  able  to  promise 
this,  since  the  fat,  florid  rescued  one  is  the  child 

34 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

of  Shipowner  Donald  of  Donald,  Carrie  &  Beck, 
owners  of  the  King  George's  Packet. 

"  Which  makes  me,"  expounds  Sir  Holman, 
his  nose  in  the  sangaree,  "  a  kind  of  son-in-law  to 
the  brig  itself." 

He  grumblingly  intimates — he  is  far  gone  in 
sangaree  at  the  time — that  a  fleet  of  just  such  sea- 
trinkets  as  the  King  George's  Packet,  so  far  as  he 
has  experimented  with  the  marital  condition, 
constitutes  the  one  redeeming  feature  of  wed 
lock. 

"  And  so,"  concludes  the  excellent  Sir  Hol 
man,  "  you're  to  go  home  with  the  rum,  guest 
of  the  ship  itself ;  and  the  thing  I  could  weep  over 
is  that  I  cannot  send  my  kit  aboard  and  sail  with 
you. ' ' 

Two  days  go  by,  and  the  King  George's  Packet 
is  sighted  off  Port  Royal ;  twenty-four  hours 
later  its  master,  Captain  Macadam — a  Solway 
man — is  drinking  Sir  Holman 's  sangaree.  Mak 
ing  good  his  word,  Sir  Holman  sends  for  first 
mate  Jack  Paul,  and  that  business  of  going  pas 
senger  to  Whitehaven  is  adjusted. 

35 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  True!  "  observes  Captain  Macadam,  when 
lie  understands — "  true,  the  George  isn't  fitted 
up  for  passengers.  But  " — turning  to  first  mate 
Jack  Paul — "  you'll  no  mind;  bein'  a  seaman 
yoursel ?. ' ' 

16  More  than  that,  Captain,"  breaks  in  Sir  Hoi- 
man,  "  since  the  port  is  reeling  full  of  yellow 
jack,  some  of  your  people  might  take  it  to  sea 
with  them.  Should  aught  go  wrong,  now,  why 
here  is  your  passenger,  a  finished  sailorman,  to 
give  you  a  lift." 

Captain  Macadam's  face  has  been  tanned  like 
leather.  None  the  less,  as  he  hears  the  above  the 
mahogany  hue  thereof  lapses  into  a  pasty,  pie 
crust  color.  Plainly  that  word  yellow  jack  fills 
his  soul  with  fear.  He  mentions  the  wearisome 
fact  to  first  mate  Jack  Paul,  as  he  and  that  young 
gentleman,  after  their  cigars  and  sangaree  with 
Sir  Holman,  are  making  a  midnight  wake  for  the 
change  house  whereat  they  have  bespoken  beds. 

li  It's  no  kindly,"  complains  Captain  Mac 
adam,  "  for  Sir  Holman  to  let  me  run  my  brig 
blindfold  into  sic  a  snare.  But  then  he  has  a 

36 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

fourth  share  in  the  tea,  and  another  in  the  rum; 
and  so,  for  his  profit  like,  he  lets  me  tak'  my 
chances.  He'd  stude  better  wi'  God  on  high  I'm 
thinkin',  if  he'd  let  his  profit  gone  by,  and  just 
had  a  pilot  boat  standin'  off  and  on  at  Port 
Royal,  to  gi'  me  the  wink  to  go  wide.  I  could  ha7 
taken  the  tea  to  New  York  weel  enou'.  But  bein' 
I'm  here,"  concludes  the  disturbed  Captain,  ap 
pealing  to  first  mate  Jack  Paul,  "  what  would  ye 
advise?  " 

"  To  get  your  tea  ashore  and  your  rum  aboard 
as  fast  as  you  may." 

' '  Ay !  that  '11  about  be  the  weesdom  of  it !  ' 

Captain  Macadam  can  talk  of  nothing  but  yel 
low  jack  all  the  way  to  the  change  house. 

11  It's  the  first  time  I  was  ever  in  these  wat- 
ters,"  he  explains  apologetically,  "  and  now  I  can 
smell  fever  in  the  air!  Ay!  the  hond  o'  death  is 
on  these  islands!  Be  ye  no  afeard,  mon?  ' 

First  mate  Jack  Paul  says  that  he  is  not.  Also 
he  is  a  trifle  irritated  at  the  alarm  of  the  timor 
ous  Captain  Macadam. 

"  That'll  just  be  your  youth  now!  "  observes 

37 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

the  timorous  one.  "  Ye 're  no  old  enou'  to  grasp 
the  responsibeelities. ' ' 

At  four  in  the  morning  Captain  Macadam 
comes  into  first  mate  Jack  Paul's  room  at  the 
change  house.  He  is  clad  in  his  linen  sleeping 
suit,  and  his  teeth  are  chattering  a  little. 

"  It's  the  bein'  ashore  makes  my  teeth  drum," 
he  vouchsafes.  "  But  what  I  wushed  to  ask  ye, 
lad,  is  d'ye  believe  in  fortunes!  No!  Weel,  then, 
neither  do  I;  only  I  remembered  like  that  lang 
syne  a  wierd  warlock  sort  o'  body  tells  me  in  the 
port  o'  Leith,  that  I'm  to  meet  my  death  in  the 
West  Injies.  It's  the  first  time,  as  I  was  tellin' 
ye,  that  ever  I  comes  pokin'  my  snout  amang 
these  islands;  and  losh!  I  believe  that  warlock 
chiel  was  right.  I've  come  for  my  death  sure." 

Captain  Macadam  promises  his  crew  double 
grog  and  double  wages,  and  works  night  and  day 
lightering  his  tea  ashore,  and  getting  his  rum 
casks  into  the  King  George's  Packet.  Then  he 
calls  a  pilot,  and,  with  a  four-knot  breeze  behind 
him,  worms  his  way  along  the  narrow,  corkscrew 
channel,  until  he  finds  himself  in  open  water. 

38 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

Then  the  pilot  goes  over  the  side,  and  Captain 
Macadam  takes  the  brig.  He  casts  an  anxious 
eye  astern  at  Port  Royal,  four  miles  away. 

"I'll  no  feel  safe,"  says  he,  "  while  yon  Sa 
tan's  nest  is  under  my  quarter.  And  afterward 
I'll  no  feel  safe  neither.  How  many  days,  mon, 
is  a  victeem  to  stand  by  and  look  for  symptoms?  >: 

First  mate  Jack  Paul,  to  whom  the  query  is 
put,  gives  it  as  his  opinion  that,  if  they  have  yel 
low  fever  aboard,  it  will  make  its  appearance 
within  the  week. 

"  Weel  that's  a  mercy  ouy  way!  "  says  Cap 
tain  Macadam  with  a  sigh. 

There  are,  besides  first  mate  Jack  Paul,  and 
the  Captain  with  his  two  officers,  twelve  seamen 
and  the  cook — seventeen  souls  in  all — aboard  the 
King  George's  Packet  as,  north  by  east,  it  crawls 
away  from  Port  Royal.  For  four  days  the  winds 
hold  light  but  fair.  Then  come  head  winds,  and 
the  brig  finds  itself  making  long  tacks  to  and  fro 
in  the  Windward  Passage,  somewhere  between 
Cape  Mazie  and  the  Mole  St.  Nicholas. 

"  D'ye  see,  mon!  "  cries  Captain  Macadam, 

39 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

whose  fears  have  increased,  not  diminished,  since 
he  last  saw  the  Jamaica  lights.  "  The  vera 
weather  seeks  to  keep  us  in  this  trap!  I'll  no  be 
feelin'  ower  weel  neither,  let  me  tell  ye!  " 

First  mate  Jack  Paul  informs  the  alarmed 
Captain  that  to  fear  the  fever  is  to  invite  it. 

"  I'm  no  afeard,  mon,"  returns  Captain  Mac 
adam,  with  a  groan,  "I'm  just  impressed." 

The  timidities  of  the  Captain  creep  among  the 
mates  and  crew;  forward  and  aft  the  feeling  is 
one  of  terror.  The  King  George's  Packet  be 
comes  a  vessel  of  gloom.  There  are  no  songs,  no 
whistling  for  a  wind.  Even  the  cook's  fiddle  is 
silent,  and  the  galley  grows  as  melancholy  as  the 
forecastle. 

It  is  eight  bells  in  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth 
day,  when  the  man  at  the  wheel  calls  to  Captain 
Macadam.  He  tosses  his  thumb  astern. 

"  Look  there!  "  says  he. 

Captain  Macadam  peers  over  the  rail,  and 
counts  eleven  huge  sharks.  The  monsters  are 
following  the  brig.  Also,  they  seem  in  an  ugly 

40 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 


mood,  since  ever  and  anon  they  dash  at  one  an 
other  ferociously. 

"  It'll  be  a  sign!  "  whispers  Captain  Macadam. 
Then  he  counts  them.  "  There'll  be  'leven  o' 
them,"  says  he;  "  and  that  means  we're  'leven 
to  die !  "  After  this  he  dives  below,  and  takes 
to  the  bottle. 

Bleared  of  eye,  shaken  of  hand,  Captain  Mac 
adam  on  the  fifth  morning  finds  first  mate  Jack 
Paul  on  the  after  deck.  The  eleven  sharks  are 
still  sculling  sullenly  along  in  the  slow  wake  of 
the  wind-bound  brig. 

"  Be  they  there  yet!  "  asks  Captain  Macadam, 
looking  over  the  stern  with  a  ghastly  grin.  Then 
answering  his  own  query:  "  Ay!  they'll  be  there 
-the  'leven  of  'em!  " 

First  mate  Jack  Paul,  observing  their  daunt 
ing  effect  on  the  over-harrowed  nerves  of  Cap 
tain  Macadam,  is  for  having  up  his  pistols  to 
take  a  shot  at  the  sharks ;  but  he  is  stayed  by  the 
other. 

"  They'll  be  sent,"  says  Captain  Macadam; 
"  it'll  no  do  to  slay  'em,  mon!  But  losh!  ain't  a 

41 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

sherk  a  fearfu'  feesh?  "  Then,  seeing  his  hand 
shake  on  the  brig's  rail:  "  It's  the  rum.  And 
that's  no  gude  omen,  me  takin'  to  the  rum;  for  I'm 
not  preeceesely  what  you'd  ca'  a  drinkin'  body." 

Two  hours  later  Captain  Macadam  issues  from 
his  cabin  and  seeks  first  mate  Jack  Paul,  where  the 
latter  is  sitting  in  the  shade  of  the  main  sail. 

"  Mon,  look  at  me!  "  he  cries.  "  D'ye  no  see? 
I  tell  ye,  Death  has  found  me  oot  on  the  deep 
watters!  ' 

The  single  glance  assures  first  mate  Jack  Paul 
that  Captain  Macadam  is  right.  His  eyes  are  con 
gested  and  ferrety ;  his  face  is  flushed.  Even  while 
first  mate  Jack  Paul  looks,  he  sees  the  skin  turn 
yellow  as  a  lemon.  He  thumbs  the  sick  man's 
wrist;  the  pulse  is  thumping  like  a  trip-hammer. 
Also,  the  dry,  fevered  skin  shows  an  abnormal 
temperature. 

' '  Your  tongue !  ' '  says  first  mate  Jack  Paul ; 
for  he  has  a  working  knowledge  of  yellow  jack. 

It  is  but  piling  evidence  upon  evidence;  the 
tongue  is  the  color  of  liver.  Three  hours  later, 
the  doomed  man  is  delirious.  Then  the  fever  gives 

42 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

way  to  a  chill;  presently  he  goes  raving  his  way 
into  eternity,  and  the  King  George's  Packet  loses 
its  Captain. 

First  mate  Jack  Paul  sews  the  dead  skipper  in 
a  hammock  with  his  own  fingers;  since,  mates, 
crew  and  cook,  not  another  will  bear  a  hand.  When 
the  hammock  sewing  is  over,  the  cook  aids  in 
bringing  the  corpse  on  deck.  As  the  body  slips 
from  the  grating  into  the  sea,  a  thirty-two  pound 
shot  at  the  heels,  the  cook  laughs  overboard  at  the 
sharks,  still  hanging,  like  hounds  upon  a  scent,  to 
the  brig's  wake. 

66  Ye '11  have  to  dive  for  the  skipper,  lads!  " 
sings  out  the  cook. 

Offended  by  this  ribaldry,  first  mate  Jack  Paul 
is  on  the  brink  of  striking  the  cook  down  with  a 
belaying  pin.  For  his  own  nerves  are  a-jangle, 
and  that  misplaced  merriment  rasps.  It  is  the 
look  in  the  man's  face  which  stays  his  hand. 

"  Ye '11  be  right!  "  cries  the  cook,  as  though 
replying  to  something  in  the  eye  of  first  mate  Jack 
Paul.  "  Don't  I  know  it?  It  is  I  who'll  follow  the 

43 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

skipper!  I'll  just  go  sew  my  own  hammock,  and 
have  it  ready,  shot  and  all. ' ' 

As  the  cook  starts  for  the  galley,  a  maniac  yell 
is  heard  from  the  forecastle.  At  that,  he  pauses, 
sloping  his  ear  to  listen. 

"  I'll  have  company,"  says  he. 

First  the  cook ;  then  the  mates ;  then  seven  of  the 
crew.  One  after  the  other,  they  follow  a  thirty-two 
pound  shot  over  the  side;  for  after  the  Captain's 
death  the  sailors  lose  their  horror  of  the  plague- 
killed  ones,  and  sew  them  up  and  slip  them  into 
the  sea  as  readily  as  though  they  are  bags  of 
bran.  The  worst  is  that  a  fashion  of  dull  panic 
takes  them,  and  they  refuse  their  duty.  There 
is  no  one  to  command,  they  say;  and,  since  there 
can  be  no  commands,  there  can  be  no  duty.  With 
that  they  hang  moodily  about  the  capstan,  or  sulk 
in  their  bunks  below. 

First  mate  Jack  Paul  takes  the  wheel,  rather 
than  leave  the  King  George's  Packet  to  con  itself 
across  the  ocean.  As  he  is  standing  at  the  wheel 
trying  to  make  a  plan  to  save  the  brig  and  himself, 
he  observes  a  sailor  blundering  aft.  The  man  dives 

44 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

below,  aud  the  next  moment,  through  the  open  sky 
lights,  first  mate  Jack  Paul  hears  him  rummaging 
the  Captain's  cabin.  In  a  trice,  he  lashes  the 
wheel,  and  slips  below  on  the  heels  of  the  sailor. 
As  he  surmises,  the  man  is  at  the  rum.  Without 
word  spoken,  he  knocks  the  would-be  rum  guzzler 
over,  and  then  kicks  him  up  the  companion  way  to 
the  deck. 

Pausing  only  to  stick  a  couple  of  pistols  in  his 
belt,  first  mate  Jack  Paul  follows  that  kicked  sea 
man  with  a  taste  for  rum.  He  walks  first  to  the 
wheel.  The  wind  is  steady  and  light;  for  the 
moment  the  brig  will  mind  itself.  Through  some 
impulse  he  glances  over  the  stern;  the  sharks  are 
gone.  This  gives  him  a  thought;  he  will  use  the 
going  of  the  sharks  to  coax  the  men. 

The  five  are  grouped  about  the  capstan,  the  one 
who  was  struck  is  bleeding  like  tragedy.  First 
mate  Jack  Paul  makes  them  a  little  speech. 

a  There  are  no  more  to  die,"  says  he.  "  The 
called-for  eleven  are  dead,  and  the  sharks  no 
longer  follow  us.  That  shows  the  ship  free  of 
menace ;  we're  all  to  see  England  again.  And  now, 

45 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

mates  '  —there  is  that  in  the  tone  which  makes  the 
five  look  up — "  I've  a  bit  of  news.  From  now, 
until  its  anchors  are  down  in  Whitehaven  basin,  I 
shall  command  this  ship." 

66  You?  "  speaks  up  a  big  sailor.  "You're  no 
but  a  boy !  ' ' 

"I'm  man  enough  to  sail  the  brig  to  England, 
and  make  you  work  like  a  dog,  you  swab !  ' '  The 
look  in  the  eye  of  first  mate  Jack  Paul,  makes  the 
capstan  quintette  uneasy.  He  goes  on:  "Come, 
my  hearties,  which  shall  it  be?  Sudden  death? 
or  you  to  do  your  duty  by  brig  and  owners?  For, 
as  sure  as  ever  I  saw  the  Solway,  the  first  who 
doesn't  jump  to  my  order,  I'll  plant  a  brace  of 
bullets  in  his  belly !  ' ' 

And  so  rebellion  ceases ;  the  five  come  off  their 
gloomings  and  their  grumblings,  and  spring  to 
their  work  of  sailing  the  brig.  It  is  labor  night 
and  day,  however,  for  all  aboard;  but  the  winds 
blow  the  fever  away,  the  gales  favor  them,  one 
and  all  they  seem  to  have  worn  out  the  evil  for 
tune  which  dogged  them  out  of  Kingston.  The 
King  George's  Packet  comes  safe,  at  the  last  of 

46 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 


it,  into  Whitehaven— first  mate  Jack  Paul  and 
his  crew  of  five  looking  for  the  lack  of  sleep  like 
dead  folk  walking  the  decks. 

Donald,  Currie  &  Beck  pay  a  grateful  salvage 
on  brig  and  cargo  to  first  mate  Jack  Paul  and  the 
five,  for  bringing  home  the  brig.  This  puts  six 
hundred  pounds  into  the  pockets  of  first  mate 
Jack  Paul,  and  one-fifth  as  much  into  the  pockets 
of  each  of  the  five.  Then  Donald,  Currie  &  Beck 
have  first  mate  Jack  Paul  to  dinner  with  the  firm. 

"  We've  got  a  ship  for  ye,"  says  shipowner 
Donald,  as  the  wine  is  being  passed.  "  Ye 're  to 
be  Captain." 

"  Captain!  "  repeats  first  mate  Jack  Paul. 
"  A  ship  for  me!  " 

"  Who  else,  then?  "  returns  shipowner  Don 
ald.  "  Ay!  it's  the  Grantully  Castle,  four  hun 
dred  tons,  out  o'  Plymouth  for  Bombay.  Ye 're 
to  be  Captain;  besides,  ye 're  to  have  a  tenth  in 
the  cargo.  And  now  if  that  suits  ye,  gentlemen  ' 
—addressing  shipowners  Currie  &  Beck—  '  let 
the  firm  of  Donald,  Currie  &  Beck  fill  up  the 
glasses  to  the  CnriitnUy  C  a  stir,  and  its  new  Cap 
tain,  Jack  Paul." 

47 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE    KILLING    OF    MUNGO 

Captain  Jack  Paul  and  his  Grantully  Castle 
see  friendly  years  together.  They  go  to  India,  to 
Spain,  to  the  West  Indies,  to  the  Mediterranean, 
to  Africa.  While  Captain  Jack  Paul  is  busy 
with  the  Grantully  Castle,  piling  up  pounds  and 
shillings  and  pence  for  owners  Donald,  Currie  & 
Beck,  he  is  also  deep  with  the  books,  hammering 
at  French,  Spanish  and  German.  Ashore,  he 
makes  his  way  into  what  best  society  he  can 
find,  being  as  eager  to  refine  his  manners  as  re 
fine  his  mind,  holding  the  one  as  much  an  educa 
tion  as  is  the  other.  Finally  he  is  known  in 
every  ocean  for  the  profundity  of  his  learning, 
the  polish  of  his  deportment,  the  power  of  his 
fists,  and  the  powder-like  explosiveness  of  his 
temper. 

It  is  a  cloudy  October  afternoon  when  Cap- 

48 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

tain  Jack  Paul  works  the  Grantully  Castle  out 
of  Plymouth,  shakes  free  his  canvas,  and  fills 
away  on  the  starboard  tack  for  Tobago.  The 
crew  is  an  evil  lot,  and  a  spirit  of  mutiny  stirs 
in  the  ship.  Captain  Jack  Paul,  who  holds  that 
a  good  sailor  is  ever  a  good  grumbler,  can  over 
look  a  deal  in  favor  of  this  aphorism;  and  does. 
On  the  sixth  day  out,  however,  when  his  first 
officer,  Mr.  Sands,  staggers  below  with  a  sheath- 
knife  through  his  shoulder,  it  makes  a  case  to 
which  no  commander  can  afford  to  seem  blind. 

"  It  was  Mungo!  "  explains  the  wounded  Mr. 
Sands. 

Captain  Jack  Paul  goes  on  deck,  and  takes  his 
stand  by  the  main  mast. 

"  Pipe  all  hands  aft,  Mr.  Cooper,"  he  says  to 
the  boatswain. 

The  crew  straggle  aft.  They  offer  a  circling 
score  of  brutal  faces;  in  each  the  dominant  ex 
pression  is  defiance. 

i  i  The  man  Mungo !  ' '  says  Captain  Jack  Paul. 
"  Where  is  he?  " 

At  the  word,  a  gigantic  black  slouches  out 

49 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

from  among  his  mates.  Sloping  shoulders,  barrel 
body,  long,  swinging  arms  like  a  gorilla's,  bandy 
legs,  huge  hands  and  feet,  head  the  size  and 
shape  of  a  cocoanut,  small,  black  serpent  eyes, 
no  soul  unless  a  fiend 's  soul,  Mungo  is  at  once 
tyrant,  pride  and  leader  of  the  forecastle.  Ru 
mor  declares  that  he  has  sailed  pirate  in  his 
time,  and  should  be  sun-drying  in  chains  on  the 
gibbet  at  Corso  Castle. 

As  he  stands  before  Captain  Jack  Paul,  Mun 
go 's  features  are  in  a  black  snarl  of  fury.  It  is 
in  his  heart  to  do  murderously  more  for  his  cap 
tain  than  he  did  for  first  officer  Sands.  He  waits 
only  the  occasion  before  making  a  spring.  Cap 
tain  Jack  Paul  looks  him  over  with  a  grim  stare 
as  he  slouches  before  him. 

"  Mr.  Cooper,"  says  Captain  Jack  Paul  after 
a  moment,  during  which  he  reads  the  black 
Mungo  like  a  page  of  print,  ' '  fetch  the  irons !  ' 

The  boatswain  is  back  on  deck  with  a  pair  of 
steel  wristlets  in  briefest  space.  He  passes  them 
to  Captain  Jack  Paul.  At  this,  Mungo  glowers, 
while  the  mutinous  faces  in  the  background  put 

50 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

on  a  dull  sullenness.  There  are  a  brace  of  pis 
tols  in  the  belt  of  Captain  Jack  Paul,  of  which 
the  sullen  dull  ones  do  not  like  the  look.  Mungo, 
a  black  berserk,  cares  little  for  the  pistols,  see 
ing  he  is  in  a  white-hot  rage,  the  hotter  for  being 
held  in  present  check.  Captain  Jack  Paul,  on 
his  part,  is  in  no  wise  asleep;  he  notes  the  roll 
ing,  roving,  bloodshot  eye,  like  the  eye  of  a  wild 
beast  at  bay,  and  is  prepared. 

1  i  Hold  out  your  hands !  ' '  comes  the  curt  com 
mand. 

Plainly  it  is  the  signal  for  which  Mungo  waited. 
With  a  growling  roar,  bear-like  in  its  guttural 
ferocity,  he  rushes  upon  Captain  Jack  Paul. 
The  roaring  rush  is  of  the  suddenest,  but  the 
latter  is  on  the  alert.  Quick  as  is  Mungo,  Cap 
tain  Jack  Paul  is  quicker.  Seizing  a  belaying- 
pin,  he  brings  it  crashing  down  on  the  skull  of 
the  roaring,  charging  black.  The  heavy,  club- 
like  pin  is  splintered;  Mungo  drops  to  the  deck, 
a  shivering  heap.  The  great  hands  close  and 
open;  the  muscles  clutch  and  knot  under  the 
black  skin;  there  is  a  choking  gurgle.  Then  the 

51 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 


mighty  limbs  relax;  the  face  turns  from  black  to 
a  sickly  tallow.  Mouth  agape,  eyes  wide  and 
staring,  Mungo  lies  still. 

Captain  Jack  Paul  surveys  the  prostrate  black. 
Then  he  tosses  the  irons  to  Boatswain  Cooper. 

"  They  will  not  be  needed,  Mr.  Bo  'sen, "  he 
says.  "  Pipe  the  crew  for'ard!  ' 

The  keen  whistle  sings;  the  mutinous  ones 
scuttle  forward,  like  fowls  that  hear  the  high 
scream  of  some  menacing  hawk. 

It  is  two  bells  in  the  evening;  the  port  watch, 
in  charge  of  the  knife-wounded  Mr.  Sands,  has 
the  deck.  The  dead  Mungo,  tight-clouted  in  a 
hammock,  lies  stretched  on  a  grating,  ready  for 
burial. 

Captain  Jack  Paul  comes  up  from  his  cabin. 
In  his  hand  he  carries  a  prayer-book.  Also 
those  two  pistols  are  still  in  his  belt. 

«  Turn  out  the  watch  below!  "  is  the  word. 

The  crew  makes  a  silent  half-circle  about  the 
dead  Mungo.  That  mutinous  sullenness,  recently 
the  defiant  expression  of  their  faces,  is  sup 
planted  by  a  deprecatory  look,  composite  of 

52 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

apology  and  fear.  It  is  as  though  they  would 
convince  Captain  Jack  Paul  of  their  tame  and 
sheep-like  frame  of  thought.  The  fate  of  Mungo 
has  instructed  them;  for  one  and  all  they  are  of 
that  criminal,  coward  brood,  best  convinced  by 
a  club  and  with  whom  death  is  the  only  conclu 
sive  argument.  As  they  stand  uncovered  about 
the  rigid  one  in  the  clouted  hammock,  they 
realize  in  full  the  villainy  of  mutiny,  and  aban 
don  that  ship-rebellion  which  has  been  fore 
castle  talk  and  plan  since  ever  the  Plymouth 
lights  went  out  astern. 

Captain  Jack  Paul  reads  a  prayer,  and  the 
dead  Mungo  is  surrendered  to  the  deep.  As  the 
body  goes  splashing  into  the  sea,  Captain  Jack 
Paul  turns  on  the  subdued  ones. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  this,  my  men!  "  says  he. 
His  tones  have  a  cold,  threatening  ring,  like  the 
clink  of  iron  on  arctic  ice.  "  The  first  of  you 
who  so  much  as  lifts  an  eyebrow  in  refusal  of  an 
order  shall  go  the  same  voyage  as  the  black. 
And  so  I  tell  you !  ' ' 

Captain  Jack  Paul  brings  the  Grantully  Castle 

53 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

into  Tobago,  crew  as  it  might  be  a  crew  of  lambs. 
Once  his  anchors  are  down,  he  signals  for  the 
port  admiral.  Within  half  an  hour  the  gig  of 
that  dignitary  is  alongside. 

The  Honorable  Simpson,  Judge  Surrogate  of 
the  Vice-Admiralty  Court  of  Tobago,  with  the 
Honorable  Young,  Lieutenant-Governor  of  the 
colony,  to  give  him  countenance,  opens  court  in 
the  after  cabins  of  the  Grantully  Castle.  The 
crew  are  examined,  man  after  man.  They  say. 
little,  lest  they  themselves  be  caught  in  some  law 
net,  and  landed  high  and  dry  in  the  Tobago  jail. 
First  Officer  Sands  shows  his  wound  and  tells  his 
story. 

Throughout  the  inquiry  Captain  Jack  Paul  sits 
in  silence,  listening  and  looking  on.  He  puts  no 
questions  to  either  mate  or  crew.  When  First 
Officer  Sands  is  finished,  the  Honorable  Simpson 
asks: 

"  Captain,  in  the  killing  of  the  black,  Mungo, 
are  you  in  conscience  convinced  that  you  used  no 
more  force  than  was  necessary  to  preserve  dis 
cipline  in  your  ship?  " 

54 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 


"  May  it  please,'7  returns  Captain  Jack  Paul, 
who  has  not  been  at  his  books  these  years  for 
nothing,  and  is  fit  to  cope  with  a  king's  counsel 
• — "  may  it  please,  I  would  say  that  it  was  neces 
sary  in  the  course  of  duty  to  strike  the  mutineer 
Mungo.  This  was  on  the  high  seas.  Whenever 
it  becomes  necessary  for  a  commanding  officer 
to  strike  a  seaman,  it  is  necessary  to  strike  with 
a  weapon.  Also,  the  necessity  to  strike  carries 
with  it  the  necessity  to  kill  or  disable  the  muti 
neer.  I  call  your  attention  to  the  fact  that  I  had 
loaded  pistols  in  my  belt,  and  could  have  shot 
the  mutineer  Mungo.  I  struck  with  a  belaying- 
pin  in  preference,  because  I  hoped  that  I  might 
subdue  him  without  killing  him.  The  result 
proved  otherwise.  I  trust  your  Honorable  Court 
will  take  due  account  that,  although  armed  with 
pistols  throwing  ounce  balls,  weapons  surely  fatal 
in  my  hands,  I  used  a  belaying-pin,  which,  though 
a  dangerous,  is  not-  necessarily  a  fatal  weapon." 

Upon  this  statement,  the  Honorable  Simpson 
and  the  Honorable  Young  confer.  As  the  upcome 
of  their  conference,  the  Honorable  Simpson 

55 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

announces  judgment,  exonerating  Captain  Jack 
Paul. 

"  The  sailor  Mungo,  being  at  the  time  on  the 
high  seas,  was  in  a  state  of  mutiny. "  Thus  runs 
the  finding  as  set  forth  in  the  records  of  the  Vice- 
Admiralty  Court  of  Tobago.  "  The  sailor  Mungo 
was  mutinous  under  circumstances  which  lodged 
plenary  power  in  the  hands  of  the  master  of  the 
vessel.  Therefore,  the  homicide  was  justifiable, 
because  it  had  become  the  only  means  of  main 
taining  the  discipline  required  for  the  safety  of 
the  ship." 

The  court  rises,  and  Captain  Jack  Paul  bows 
the  Honorable  Simpson  and  the  Honorable 
Young  over  the  side.  When  they  are  clear,  First 
Officer  Sands  addresses  Captain  Jack  Paul. 

"  Are  the  crew  to  be  set  ashore,  sir?  "  he  asks. 

"  What!  Mr.  Sands,  would  you  discharge  the 
best  crew  we've  ever  had?  '  He  continues  as 
though  replying  to  his  first  officer's  look  of  aston 
ishment.  "  I  grant  you  they  were  a  trifle  un- 
curried  at  first.  The  error  of  their  ways,  how 
ever,  broke  upon  them  with  all  clearness  in  the 

56 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

going  of  Mungo.  As  matters  now  are,  compared 
to  the  Grantully  Castle,  a  dove-cote  is  a  merest 
theatre  of  violence  and  murderous  blood.  No, 
Mr.  Sands;  we  will  keep  our  crew  if  you  please. 
Should  there  be  further  mutiny,  why  then  there 
shall  be  further  belaying-pins,  I  promise  you." 

The  Grantully  Castle  goes  finally  back  to  Eng 
land,  the  most  peaceful  creature  of  oak  and  cord 
age  that  ever  breasted  the  Atlantic.  Cargo  dis 
charged,  the  ship  is  sent  into  winter  overhaul. 

"  As  for  you,  sir,"  remarks  owner  Donald,  of 
Donald,  Currie  &  Beck,  shoving  the  wine  across 
to  Captain  Jack  Paul,  "  ye 're  just  a  maister 
mariner  of  gold!  Ye '11  no  wait  ashore  for  the 
Grantully  Castle.  We've  been  buildin'  ye  a  new 
ship  at  our  Portsmouth  yards.  She's  off  the 
ways  a  month,  and  s'uld  be  sparred  and  rigged 
and  ready  for  the  waves  by  now.  We've  called 
her  The  Two  Friends." 


CHAPTER   V 

THE   SAILOR   TURNS    PLANTER 

The  wooded  April  banks  of  the  Rappahannock 
are  flourishing  in  the  new  green  of  an  early  Vir 
ginia  spring.  The  bark  Two  Friends,  Captain 
Jack  Paul,  out  of  Whitehaven  by  way  of  Lisbon, 
Madeira,  and  Kingston,  comes  picking  her  dull 
way  up  the  river,  and  anchors  midstream  at  the 
foot  of  the  William  Jones  plantation.  Almost 
coincident  with  the  splash  of  the  anchors,  the  Two 
Friends  has  her  gig  in  the  water,  and  the  next 
moment  Captain  Jack  Paul  takes  his  place  in  the 
stern  sheets. 

"  Let  fall!  "  comes  the  sharp  command,  as  he 
seizes  the  tiller-ropes. 

The  four  sailors  bend  their  strong  backs,  the 
four  oars  swing  together  like  clockwork,  and  the 
gig  heads  for  the  plantation  landing  where  a 
twenty-ton  sloop,  current-vexed,  lies  gnawing  at 
her  ropes. 

58 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

At  twenty-six,  Captain  Jack  Paul  is  the  very 
flower  of  a  quarter-deck  nobility.  He  has  not  the 
advantage  of  commanding  height;  but  the  lean, 
curved  nose,  clean  jaw,  firmly-lined  mouth,  steady 
stare  of  the  brown  eyes,  coupled  at  the  earliest 
smell  of  opposition  with  a  frowning  falcon  trick 
of  brow  like  a  threat,  are  as  a  commission  to  him, 
signed  arid  countersigned  by  nature,  to  be  ever 
a  leader  of  men.  In  figure  he  is  five  feet  seven 
inches,  and  the  scales  telling  his  weight  consent 
to  one  hundred  and  forty-five  pounds.  His  hands 
and  feet  are  as  small  as  a  woman's.  By  way  of 
offset  to  this,  his  shoulders,  broad  and  heavy,  and 
his  deep  chest  arched  like  the  deck  of  a  whale- 
back,  speak  of  anything  save  the  effeminate.  Ir 
his  movements  there  is  a  feline  graceful  accuracy > 
with  over  all  a  resolute  atmosphere  of  enterprise. 
To  his  men,  he  is  more  than  a  captain;  he  is  a 
god.  Prudent  at  once  and  daring,  he  shines  a 
master  of  seamanship,  and  never  the  sailor  serves 
with  him  who  would  not  name  him  a  mariner 
without  a  flaw.  He  is  born  to  inspire  faith  in 
men.  This  is  as  it  should  be,  by  his  own  abstract 

59 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

picture  of  a  captain,  which  he  will  later  furnish 
Doctor  Franklin: 

'  *  Your  captain, ' '  he  will  say,  when  thus  inform 
ing  that  philosopher,  "  your  captain,  Doctor, 
should  have  the  blind  confidence  of  his  sailors. 
It  is  his  beginning,  his  foundation,  wanting  which 
he  can  be  no  true  captain.  To  his  men  your  cap 
tain  must  be  prophet,  priest  and  king.  His  au 
thority  when  off-shore  is  necessarily  absolute,  and 
therefore  the  crew  should  be  as  one  man  im 
pressed  that  the  captain,  like  the  sovereign,  can 
do  no  wrong.  If  a  captain  fail  in  this,  he  cannot 
make  up  for  it  by  severity,  austerity  or  cruelty. 
Use  force,  apply  restraint,  punish  as  he  may,  he 
will  always  have  a  sullen  crew  and  an  unhappy 
ship," 

The  nose  of  the  gig  grates  on  the  river's  bank, 
and  Captain  Jack  Paul  leaps  ashore.  He  is 
greeted  by  a  tall,  weather-beaten  old  man — griz 
zled  and  gray.  The  form  of  the  latter  is  erect, 
with  a  kind  of  ramrod  military  stiffness.  His 
dress  is  the  rough  garb  of  the  Virginia  overseer 
in  all  respects  save  headgear.  Instead  of  the  soft 

60 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

wool  hat,  common  of  his  sort,  the  old  man  cocks 
over  his  watery  left  eye  a  Highland  bonnet,  and 
this,  with  its  hawk's  feather,  fastened  by  a  silver 
clasp,  gives  to  his  costume  a  crag  and  heather 
aspect  altogether  Scotch. 

The  gray  old  man,  with  a  grinning  background 
of  negro  slaves,  waits  for  the  landing  of  Captain 
Jack  Paul.  As  the  latter  springs  ashore,  the  old 
man  throws  up  his  hand  in  a  military  salute. 

* i  And  how  do  we  find  Duncan  Macbean  ?  ' '  cries 
Captain  Jack  Paul.  "  How  also  is  my  brother! 
I  trust  you  have  still  a  bale  or  two  of  winter-cured 
tobacco  left  that  we  may  add  to  our  cargo?  ' 

"  As  for  the  tobacco,  Captain  Paul,"  returns 
old  Duncan  Macbean,  "  ye 're  a  day  or  so  behind 
the  fair,  since  the  maist  of  it  sailed  Englandward 
a  month  back,  in  the  brig  Flora  Belle.  As  for 
your  brother  William  of  whom  ye  ask,  now  I 
s'uld  say  ye  were  in  gude  time  just  to  hear  his 
dying  words. ' ' 

"  What's  that,  Duncan  Macbean!  "  exclaims 
Captain  Jack  Paul.  "  William  dying!  " 

"  Ay,  dying!  He  lies  nearer  death  than  he's 

61 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

been  any  time  since  he  and  I  marched  with  Gen 
eral  Braddock  and  Colonel  Washington,  against 
the  red  salvages  of  the  Ohio.  But  you  s'uld  come 
and  see  him  at  once,  you  his  born  brother,  and 
no  stand  talking  here." 

"  It's  lung  fever,  Jack,"  whispers  the  sick  man, 
as  Captain  Jack  Paul  draws  a  chair  to  the  side 
of  the  bed.  "  It's  deadly,  too;  I  can  feel  it.  I'll 
not  get  up  again." 

1  Come,  come,  brother,"  retorts  Captain  Jack 
Paul  cheerfully,  "  you're  no  old  man  to  talk  of 
death — you,  with  your  fewer  than  fifty  years. 
I'll  see  you  up  and  on  your  pins  again  before  I 
leave." 

"  No,  Jack,  it's  death.  And  you've  come  in 
good  time,  too,  since  there 's  much  to  talk  between 
us.  You  know  how  our  cousin  left  me  his  heir, 
if  I  would  take  his  name  of  Jones!  " 

' '  Assuredly  I  know. ' ' 

'  And  so,"  continues  the  dying  man,  "  my 
name  since  his  passing  away  has  been  William 
Paul  Jones.  Now  when  it  is  my  turn  to  go,  I 
must  tell  you  that,  by  a  clause  of  the  old  man's 

62 


No,  Jack,  it's  death.' 


Page  62 


e   °     °     <•><•» 

c    ftr<  ,f     c  ^  .f  r     /  '',, 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

will,  lie  writes  you  in  after  me  as  legatee.  I'm 
to  die,  Jack;  and  you're  to  have  the  plantation. 
Only  you  must  clap  '  Jones  '  to  your  name,  and 
be  not  John  Paul,  but  John  Paul  Jones,  as  you 
take  over  the  estate." 

' '  What 's  this  ?  I  'm  to  heir  the  plantation  after 
you?  " 

"  So  declares  the  will.  On  condition,  however, 
that  you  also  take  the  name  of  Jones.  That  should 
not  be  hard ;  i  Jones  '  is  one  of  our  family  names, 
and  he  that  leaves  you  the  land  was  our  kinsman. ' ' 

"Why,  then,"  cries  Captain  Jack  Paul,  "I 
wasn't  hesitating  for  that.  Paul  is  a  good  name, 
but  so  also  is  Jones.  Only,  I  tell  you,  brother,  I 
hate  to  make  my  fortune  by  your  death." 

11  That's  no  common-sense,  Jack.  I  die  the 
easier  knowing  my  going  makes  way  for  your 
good  luck.  And  the  plantation's  a  gem,  Jack; 
never  a  cold  or  sour  acre  in  the  whole  three  thou 
sand,  but  all  of  it  warm,  sweet  land.  There 're  two 
thousand  acres  of  woods;  and  I'd  leave  that 
stand."  The  dying  man,  being  Scotch,  would 
give  advice  on  his  deathbed.  "  The  thousand 

G3 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

acres  now  under  plow  are  enough. "  Then,  after 
a  pause:  "  Ye '11  be  content  ashore!  You're  young 
yet ;  you  're  not  so  wedded  to  the  sea,  I  think,  but 
you'll  turn  planter  with  good  grace?  ' 

"  No  fear,  William.  I've  had  good  fortune  by 
the  sea;  but  then  I've  met  ill  fortune  also.  By 
and  large,  I  shall  be  very  well  content  to  turn 
planter. ' ' 

"  It's  gainful,  Jack,  being  a  planter  is.  Only 
keep  Duncan  Macbean  by  you  to  manage,  and 
he'll  turn  you  in  one  thousand  golden  guineas 
profit  every  Christmas  day,  and  you  never  to  lift 
hand  or  give  thought  to  the  winning  of  them." 

"  Is  the  plantation  as  gainful  as  that?  Now  I 
have  but  three  thousand  guineas  to  call  mine, 
after  sailing  these  years." 

"  Ay!  it's  gainful,  Jack.  If  you  will  work,  too, 
there's  that  to  keep  you  busy.  There's  the  grist 
mill,  the  thirty  slaves,  the  forty  horses,  besides 
the  cows  and  swine  and  sheep  to  look  after;  as 
well  as  the  negro  quarters,  the  tobacco  houses, 
the  stables,  and  the  great  mansion  itself  to  keep 
up.  They'll  all  serve  to  fill  in  the  time  busily,  if 

64 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

you  should  like  it  that  way.  Only  Jack,  with  the 
last  of  it,  always  leave  everything  to  Duncan 
Macbean.  A  rare  and  wary  man  is  old  Duncan, 
and  saving  of  money  down  to  farthings." 

"  Whose  sloop  is  that  at  the  landing!  "  asks 
Captain  Jack  Paul,  willing  to  shift  the  subject. 

' '  Oh,  yon  sloop  ?  She  goes  with  the  plantation ; 
she'll  be  yours  anon,  brother.  And  there  you  are: 
When  the  sea  calls  to  you,  Jack,  as  she  will  call, 
you  take  the  sloop.  Cato  and  Scipio  are  good 
sailors,  well  trained  to  the  coast  clear  away  to 
Charleston." 

And  so  William  Paul  Jones  dies,  and  John  Paul 
takes  his  place  on  the  plantation.  His  name  is 
no  longer  John  Paul,  but  John  Paul  Jones ;  and, 
as  his  -dying  brother  counselled,  he  keeps  old  Dun 
can  Macbean  to  be  the  manager. 

When  his  brother  is  dead,  Captain  Jack  Paul 
joins  his  mate,  Laurence  Edgar,  on  the  deck  of 
the  Tico  Friends,  swinging  tide  and  tide  on  her 
anchors. 

"  Mate  Edgar,"  says  Captain  Jack  Paul,/'  it 
is  the  last  time  I  shall  plank  this  quarterdeck  as 

65 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

captain.  I'm  to  stay;  and  you're  to  take  the  ship 
home  to  Whitehaven.  And  now,  since  you're  the 
captain,  and  I'm  no  more  than  a  guest,  suppose 
you  order  your  cabin  boy  to  get  us  a  bottle  of 
the  right  Madeira,  and  we'll  drink  fortune  to  the 
bark  and  her  new  master. ' ' 


66 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  FIRST  BLOW  IN  VIRGINIA 

It  is  a  soundless,  soft  December  evening.  The 
quietly  falling  flakes  are  cloaking  in  thin  white 
the  streets  and  roofs  of  Norfolk.  Off  shore,  a 
cable's  length,  an  English  sloop  of  war,  eighteen 
guns,  lies  tugging  at  her  anchors.  In  shore  from 
the  sloop  of  war  rides  the  peaceful  twenty-ton 
sloop  of  Planter  Paul  Jones.  The  sailor-planter, 
loitering  homeward  from  a  cruise  to  Charleston 
and  the  coast  towns  of  the  Carolinas,  is  calling 
on  friends  in  Norfolk.  Both  the  war  sloop  and 
the  peace  sloop  seem  almost  deserted  in  the  fall 
ing  snow.  Aside  from  the  harbor  light  burning 
high  in  the  rigging,  and  an  anchor  watch  of  two 
sailors  muffled  to  the  ears,  the  decks  of  neither 
craft  show  signs  of  life. 

Norfolk's  public  hall  is  candle-lighted  to  a 
pitch  of  unusual  brilliancy;  the  waxed  floors  are 

67 


Th. e     Story    of    Paul    Jones 

thronged  with  the  beauty  and  gentility  of  the 
Old  Dominion,  as  the  same  find  Norfolk  expres 
sion.  It  is  indeed  a  mighty  social  occasion;  for 
the  local  elite  have  seized  upon  the  officers  of 
the  sloop  of  war,  and  are  giving  a  ball  in  their 
honor.  The  honored  ones  attend  to  a  man — which 
accounts  for  the  deserted  look  of  their  sloop— 
and  their  gold  lace  blazes  bravely  by  the  light  of 
the  candles,  and  with  tremendous  gala  effect. 

Planter  Paul  Jones  is  also  among  the  guests. 
Since  he  is  in  town,  his  coming  to  the  ball  becomes 
the  thing  most  natural.  Already  he  is  regarded 
as  the  Admirable  Crichton,  of  tide-water  Vir 
ginia,  and  the  function  wanting  his  presence 
would  go  down  to  history  as  incomplete. 

Paul  Jones,  planter  for  two  years,  has  made 
himself  a  foremost  figure  in  Virginia.  Twenty- 
eight,  cultured,  travelled,  gallant,  brilliant,  and  a 
bachelor,  he  is  welcome  in  every  drawing-room. 
Besides,  is  there  not  the  Jones  plantation,  with 
its  mile  of  river  front,  its  noble  mansion  house, 
its  tobacco  teeming  acres,  its  well-trained  slaves, 
and  all  turning  in  those  yearly  one  thousand  yel- 

68 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

low  guineas  under  the  heedful  managing  thumb 
of  canny  Duncan  Macbeanf  Planter  Paul  Jones 
is  a  prince  for  hospitality,  too ;  and  the  high  co 
lonial  dames,  taking  pity  on  his  wifeless  state, 
preside  at  his  table,  or  chaperone  the  water  par 
ties  which  he  gives  on  his  great  sloop.  Also — 
still  considering  his  wifelessness — they  seek  to 
marry  him  to  one  of  their  colonial  daughters. 

In  this  latter  dulcet  intrigue,  the  high  colonial 
dames  fail  wholly.  The  young  planter-sailor  is 
not  a  marrying  man.  There  is  in  truth  a  blush 
ing  story  which  lasts  throughout  a  fortnight  in 
which  he  is  quoted  as  about  to  yield.  Rumor 
gives  it  confidently  forth  that  the  Jones  mansion 
will  have  a  mistress,  and  its  master  carry  altar- 
ward  Betty  Parke,  the  pretty  niece  of  Madam 
Martha  Washington.  But  pretty  Betty  Parke, 
in  the  very  face  of  this  roseate  rumor,  becomes 
Mrs.  Tyler,  and  it  will  be  one  of  her  descendants 
who,  seventy-five  years  later,  is  chosen  Presi 
dent — a  poor  President,  but  still  a  President. 
Planter  Paul  Jones  rides  to  the  wedding  of 
pretty  Betty  Parke,  and  gives  it  his  serene  and 

69 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

satisfied  countenance.  From  which  sign  it 
is  supposed  that  Dame  Eumor  mounts  by  the 
wrong  stirrup  when  she  goes  linking  the  name 
of  pretty  Betty  Parke  with  that  of  Planter  Paul 
Jones ;  and  no  love-letter  scrap,  nor  private  jour 
nal  note,  will  ever  rise  from  the  grave  to  dis 
parage  the  assumption. 

That  Planter  Paul  Jones  has  thus  lived  for  two 
years,  and  moved  and  had  his  social  being  among 
the  most  beautiful  of  women,  and  escaped  hand 
free  and  heart  free  to  tell  the  tale,  is  strange  to 
the  brink  of  marvellous.  It  is  the  more  strange 
since  no  one  could  be  more  than  he  the  knight  of 
dames.  And  he  can  charm,  too — as  witness  a  let 
ter  which  two  years  farther  on  the  unimpression 
able  Doctor  Franklin  will  write  to  Madam  d'Hau- 
detot : 

"  No  matter,  my  dear  madam, "  the  cool  phi 
losopher  will  say,  "  what  the  faults  of  Paul  Jones 
may  be,  I  must  warn  your  ladyship  that  when 
face  to  face  with  him  neither  man  nor,  so  far  as 
I  learn,  woman,  can  for  a  moment  resist  the 
strange  magnetism  of  his  presence,  the  indescrib- 

70 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

able  charm  of  his  manner;  a  commingling  of  the 
most  compliant  deference  with  the  most  perfect 
self-esteem  that  I  have  ever  seen  in  a  man;  and 
above  all  the  sweetness  of  his  voice  and  the  purity 
of  his  language. " 

Paul  Jones  is  not  alone  the  darling  of  colonial 
drawing-rooms,  he  is  also  the  admiration  of  the 
men.  This  is  his  description  as  given  by  one  who 
knew  him  afloat  and  ashore : 

"  Though  of  slender  build,  his  neck,  arms  and 
shoulders  were  those  of  a  heavy,  powerful  man. 
The  strength  of  his  arms  and  shoulders  could 
hardly  be  believed.  And  he  had  equal  use  of 
both  hands,  even  to  writing  with  the  left  as  well 
as  with  the  right.  He  was  a  past  master  of  the 
art  of  boxing.  To  this  he  added  a  quickness  of 
motion  that  cannot  be  described.  When  roused 
he  could  strike  more  blows  and  cause  more  havoc 
in  a  second  than  any  other  could  strike  or  cause 
in  a  minute.  Even  when  calm  and  unruffled  his 
gait  and  all  his  bodily  motions  were  those  of  the 
panther — noiseless, sleek, the  perfection  of  grace." 

The  above,  by  way  of  portrait :  When  one  adds 

71 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

to  it  that  Planter  Paul  Jones  rides  like  a  Prince 
Eupert,  fences  like  a  Crillon,  gives  blows  with  his 
fist  that  would  stagger  Jack  Slack,  and  is  death 
itself  with  either  gun  or  pistol,  it  will  be  seen 
how  he  owns  every  quality  that  should  pedestal 
him  as  a  paragon  in  the  best  circles  of  his  day. 

It  is  towards  the  hour  of  midnight  when  Planter 
Paul  Jones,  attired  like  a  Brummel,  stands  in 
quiet  converse  with  his  friend  Mr.  Hurst.  Their 
talk  runs  on  the  state  of  sentiment  in  the  colonies, 
and  the  chance  of  trouble  with  the  motherland. 

11  Hostilities  are  certain,  my  dear  Hurst, "  says 
Planter  Paul  Jones.  "  I  hear  it  from  Colonel 
Washington,  Mr.  Jefferson  and  Mr.  Henry.  They 
make  no  secret  of  it  in  Williamsburg  about  the 
House  of  Burgesses. " 

"  But  the  other  colonies!  " 

"  Mr.  Morris  of  Philadelphia,  as  well  as  Mr. 
Pynckney  of  Charleston,  agrees  with  the  gentle 
men  I've  quoted.  They  say,  sir,  there  will  soon 
be  an  outbreak  in  Boston." 

"  In  Boston!  "  repeats  Mr.  Hurst  doubtfully. 

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The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

"  Have  the  Massachusetts  men  the  courage,  think 
you?  " 

"  Courage,  ay!  and  the  strength,  my  friend! 
Both  Colonel  Washington  and  Mr.  Jefferson  as 
sured  me  that,  although  slow  to  anger,  they  are 
true  sons  of  Cromwell's  Ironsides. 

"  And  what  shall  be  our  attitude!  ' 

"  We  must  sustain  them  at  all  hazards,  sir- 
sustain  them  to  the  death !  ' 

It  is  now  that  a  knot  of  English  officers  drift 
up — a  little  flushed  of  wine,  are  these  guests  of 
honor.  They,  too,  have  been  talking,  albeit 
thickly,  of  a  possible  future  full  of  trouble  for 
the  colonies. 

"  I  was  observing,"  says  Lieutenant  Parker, 
addressing  Planter  Paul  Jones  and  Mr.  Hurst, 
"  that  the  insolence  of  the  Americans,  which  is 
more  or  less  in  exhibition  all  the  way  from  Boston 
to  Savannah,  will  never  get  beyond  words.  There 
will  be  no  blows  struck." 

"  And  why  are  you  so  confident?  '  asks 
Planter  Paul  Jones,  eye  agate,  voice  purringly 
soft.  ' '  Now  I  should  say  that,  given  provocation, 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

the  colonies  would  strike  a  blow,  and  a  heavy 
one." 

"  When  do  you  sail?  "  interrupts  Mr.  Hurst, 
speaking  to  Lieutenant  Parker.  Mr.  Hurst  would 
shift  conversation  to  less  perilous  ground.  As  a 
mover  of  the  ball,  he  is  in  sort  host  to  the  offi 
cers,  as  well  as  to  Planter  Paul  Jones,  and  for 
the  white  credit  of  the  town  desires  a  peaceful 
evening.  "  I  hear,"  he  concludes,  "  that  your 
sloop  is  for  a  cruise  off  the  French  coast." 

"  She  and  the  fleet  she  belongs  to,"  responds 
Lieutenant  Parker,  utterance  somewhat  blurred, 
' '  will  remain  on  this  station  while  a  word  of  rebel 
talk  continues. ' ' 

"  Now,  instead  of  keeping  you  here,"  breaks 
in  Planter  Paul  Jones,  vivaciously,  "  to  hector 
peaceful  colonies,  if  I  were  your  king  I  should 
send  you  to  wrest  Cape  Good  Hope  from  the 
Dutch." 

"  Cape  Good  Hope  from  the  Dutch?  " 

"  Or  the  Isles  of  France  and  Bourbon  from 
the  French — lying,  as  they  do,  like  lions  in  the 
pathway  to  our  Indian  possessions.  If  I  were 

74 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

your  king,  I  say,  those  would  be  the  tasks  I'd  set 
you. ' ' 

"  And  why  do  you  say  '  your  king?  '  Is  he 
not  also  your  king!  ' 

' '  Why,  sir,  I  might  be  pleasantly  willing, ' '  ob 
serves  Planter  Paul  Jones  airily,  "  to  give  you 
my  share  in  King  George.  In  any  event,  I  do 
not  propose  that  you  shall  examine  into  my  alle 
giance.  And  I  say  again  that,  if  I  were  your 
king,  sir,  I'd  find  you  better  English  work  to  do 
than  an  irritating  and  foolish  patrol  of  these 
coasts." 

"  You  spoke  of  the  Americans  striking  a  blow," 
says  Lieutenant  Parker,  who  is  gifted  of  that  per 
tinacity  of  memory  common  to  half -drunken  men ; 
"  you  spoke  but  a  moment  back  of  the  Americans 
striking  a  blow,  and  a  heavy  one." 

"  Ay,  sir!  a  blow — given  provocation." 

Lieutenant  Parker  wags  his  head  with  an  air 
of  sagacity  both  bibulous  and  supercilious.  He 
smiles  victoriously,  as  a  fortunate  comparison 
bobs  up  to  his  mind. 

"  A  blow!  "  he  murmurs.  Then,  fixing  Planter 

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The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

Paul  Jones  with  an  eye  of  bleary  scorn:  "  The 
Americans  would  be  quickly  lashed  into  their  ken 
nels  again.  The  more  easily,  if  the  courage  of 
the  American  men,  as  I  think 's  the  case,  is  no 
more  firmly  founded  than  the  chastity  of  the 
American  women. " 

Planter  Paul  Jones  deals  Lieutenant  Parker  a 
blow  with  his  clenched  fist,  the  like  of  which  was 
never  before  seen  even  in  the  violent  port  of 
Norfolk.  Lieutenant  Parker's  nose  is  crushed  flat 
with  his  face;  he  falls  like  some  pole-axed  ox. 
His  fellow-officers  lift  him  to  his  feet,  bleeding, 
stunned  beyond  words. 

"  You  shall  hear  from  us!  "  is  the  fierce  cry 
from  his  comrades,  as  they  hurry  the  stricken 
Parker  from  the  ballroom. 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  hear  from  any  or  all  of 
you, ' '  replies  Planter  Paul  Jones ;  "  or  from  what 
other  dogs  in  king's  coats  shall  question  the  honor 
of  American  women."  Then,  turning  to  Mr. 
Hurst :  ' '  You,  sir,  shall  act  for  me !  Accept  every 
challenge  they  send!  Make  it  pistols,  ten  paces, 
with  Craney  Island  for  the  place ;  and  fix  the  time 
to  suit  their  English  convenience. ' ' 

76 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    BLAST    OF    WAR 

Norfolk  is  never  more  at  peace  than  on  the  day 
succeeding  the  ball.  There  is  no  challenge,  no 
duel.  Planter  Paul  Jones  waits  to  hear  from 
•Lieutenant  Parker;  at  first  hopefully;  in  the  end, 
when  nothing  comes,  with  doubtful  brow  of  grief. 
Is  it  that  Lieutenant  Parker  will  not  fight? 
Planter  Paul  Jones  hears  the  suggestion  from 
his  friend  Mr.  Hurst  with  polite  scorn.  Such 
heresy  is  beyond  reach. 

"  He  must  fight/'  urges  Planter  Paul  Jones, 
desperately  keeping  alive  the  fires  of  his  hope. 
"  He  will  fight,  if  for  no  other  reason,  then  be 
cause  it  is  his  trade.  Lieutenant  Parker  is  pug 
nacious  by  profession;  that  of  itself  will  make 
him  toe  the  peg. ' ' 

Planter  Paul  Jones  is  wrong.  Lieutenant 
Parker  never  shows  his  beaten  face  on  American 

77 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

soil  again.  Nor  does  any  bellicose  gentleman  ap 
pear  for  Lieutenant  Parker,  or  propose  to  take 
his  place. 

This  last  omission  gives  Planter  Paul  Jones  as 
sharp  a  pang  as  though  he  has  been  slighted  by 
some  dearest  friend.  Having  on  his  own  part  a 
native  lust  for  battle,  it  bewilders  him  when  so 
excellent  a  foundation  for  a  duel  falls  into  neglect, 
and  no  architect  of  combat  steps  forward  to  build 
thereon. 

"  It  is  not  to  be  understood !  ' '  observes  Planter 
Paul  Jones  dejectedly,  after  the  sloop  of  war, 
with  Lieutenant  Parker  and  those  others  of  that 
gold-lace  coterie,  has  sailed  away,  "  it's  not  to 
be  understood !  Surely,  there  must  have  been  one 
gentleman  among  them  who,  free  to  do  so,  would 
have  called  me  to  account. "  Then,  with  solemn 
sadness :  "  I  am  convinced  that  their  admiral  in 
terfered.  ' ' 

Who  shall  say?  The  admiral  is  the  paternal 
uncle  of  Lieutenant  Parker  of  the  crushed  and 
broken  nose. 

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The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

The  story  will  go  later  to  England  to  the  ex 
planatory  effect  that  no  fellow-officer  would  act 
for  Lieutenant  Parker.  However,  in  doubt  of 
this,  that  last  named  imprudent  person — wearing 
the  marks  of  Planter  Paul  Jones '  rebuke  for  many 
a  day — is  not  dismissed  the  king's  service.  He 
will  be  in  the  fight  off  Fort  Moultrie,  where— 
unlike  Sergeant  Jasper  of  the  Americans — he  in 
no  wise  is  to  distinguish  himself. 

Planter  Paul  Jones,  when  every  final  chance  of 
the  trouble  for  which  he  longs  has  departed  with 
the  departure  of  the  war  sloop,  sorrowfully  steers 
the  peace  sloop  back  to  his  plantation  by  the  Rap- 
pahannock ;  and  thereafter  he  does  his  best  to  for 
get  an  incident  that — because  of  the  mysterious 
tameness  of  the  English,  under  conditions  which 
should  have  brought  them  ferociously  to  the  field 
—gives  him  an  aching  sense  of  pain.  He  says  to 
Mr.  Hurst,  when  about  to  spread  his  small  canvas 
and  sail  away  for  home,  "  It  is  one  of  those  ex 
periences,  sir,  that  shake  a  man's  faith  in  his 
kind." 

The  colonial  dames  get  hold  of  the  tale,  and 

79 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Planter  Paul  Jones  becomes  all  the  more  the 
petted  darling  of  the  drawing-rooms.  This  of  it 
self  is  a  destiny  most  friendly  to  his  taste;  for 
our  Virginia  Bayard  lives  not  without  his  tender 
vanities.  Bright  eyes  are  more  beautiful  than 
stars;  and  he  can  sigh,  or  whisper  a  sonnet,  or 
softly  press  a  little  hand.  Also,  having  in  his 
composition  an  ardent  dash  of  the  peacock,  he  is 
capable,  with  fair  ladies  looking  on,  of  a  decorous, 
albeit  a  resplendent  strut. 


Four  months,  dating  from  the  disaster  to  Lieu 
tenant  Parker's  nose,  have  squeezed  through  the 
gates  of  a  narrow  present,  and  merged  with  those 
other  countless  months  which  together  make  the 
past.  It  is  a  muggy  April  morning,  and  New 
York  City,  panting  with  its  metropolitan  popula 
tion  of  forty  thousand,  is  soaked  to  the  bone. 
Little  squalls  of  rain  follow  each  other  in  gusty 
procession.  Between  the  squalls  the  sun  shines 
forth,  and  sets  the  world  a-steam.  After  each  of 
these  intermittent  bursts  of  glory,  the  sun  is 

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The     Story     of     Paul    Jones 

again  blotted  out  by  a  black  flurry  of  clouds,  and 
another  shower  sets  in. 

It  is  in  William  Street  that  the  reader  comes 
across  the  lithe  figure  of  Planter  Paul  Jones. 
That  restless  tobacco  grower,  with  his  two  aquatic 
slaves,  Scipio  and  Cato,  in  the  little  sloop,  has 
been  knocking  about  the  eastern  shore  for  ducks. 
A  sudden  change  of  plan  now  brings  him  to  New 
York,  with  a  final  purpose  of  extending  his  voy 
age  as  far  as  Boston.  Planter  Paul  Jones  is  in 
a  mood  to  know  the  Yankees  better,  and  come  by 
some  guess  of  his  own  as  to  how  soon  our  Puritan 
bulldogs  may  be  expected  to  fly  at  the  English 
throat. 

As  he  goes  briskly  northward  along  William 
Street,  even  through  his  landsman's  garb  there 
shows  much  that  is  marine.  Also,  he  evinces  a 
sailor's  contempt  for  the  dripping  weather,  plow 
ing  ahead  through  shine  and  through  shower  as 
though  in  the  catalogue  of  the  disagreeable  there 
is  no  such  word  as  a  wetting. 

At  the  corner  of  John  Street,  Planter  Paul 
Jones  comes  upon  a  lean,  prim  personage.  By 

81 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

his  severe  air  the  latter  gentleman  is  evidently 
an  individual  of  consequence.  The  severe  gentle 
man,  with  a  prudent  care  for  his  coat  in  direct 
contrast  to  the  weather-carelessness  of  the  other, 
has  taken  refuge  in  the  safe  harborage  of  a  door 
way.  From  the  dry  vantage  thereof  he  cranes 
his  neck  in  a  tentative  way,  the  better  to  survey 
the  heavens.  Plainly  he  desires  a  guarantee,  in 
favor  of  some  partial  space  of  sunshine,  before 
he  again  ventures  abroad. 

As  Planter  Paul  Jones  comes  up,  both  he  and 
the  severe  gentleman  gaze  at  each  other  for  one 
moment.  Then  their  hands  are  caught  in  a  warm 
exchange  of  greetings : 

1 '  Mr.  Livingston,  by  my  word !  ' '  cries  Planter 
Paul  Jones,  shaking  the  severe  gentleman's 
hand. 

' '  Paul  Jones !  ' '  exclaims  the  severe  gentleman, 
returning  the  handshake,  but  with  due  regard  to 
the  pompous. 

11  Now  this  is  what  I  term  fortunate!  "  says 
Planter  Paul  Jones,  releasing  the  other's  fingers. 
11  I  was  on  my  way  to  your  house  to  ask  for  let- 

83 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

ters  of  introduction  to  Mr.  Hancock  and  others 
in  Boston. " 

11  Boston!    Surely  you  have  heard  the  news?  " 

'"  News?  I've  heard  nothing.  For  six  weeks 
I've  been  anywhere  between  Barnegat  and  the 
inner  Chesapeake  in  my  sloop.  I  tied  up  at  the 
foot  of  Whitehall  Street  within  the  hour,  and 
you're  the  first  I've  spoken  with  since  I  stepped 
ashore.  What  is  this  news  that  makes  you  stare 
at  the  name  of  Boston!  ' 

i  i  And  you  Ve  not  heard !  ' '  repeats  Mr.  Living 
ston.  Then,  with  a  look  at  once  somber  and  sol 
emn:  "  Black  news!  Black  news,  indeed!  I'm 
on  my  way  to  Hanover  Square  to  have  it  set  in 
types,  and  scattered  up  and  down  the  town. 
Come;  you  shall  go  with  me.  I'll  talk  as  we  walk 
along. ' ' 

Mr.  Livingston  takes  Planter  Paul  Jones  by  the 
arm. 

* '  Black  news !  "  he  resumes.  ' i  The  Massachu 
setts  men  have  attacked  the  British  at  Lexington 
and  Concord;  my  despatches,  while  necessarily 
meager,  declare  that  the  British  were  disgrace- 

83 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

fully  beaten,  and  lost,  killed  and  wounded,  several 
hundred  soldiers. " 

"  And  you  call  that  black  news?  "  interjects 
Planter  Paul  Jones,  his  eye  finely  aflame.  "  To 
my  mind  now  it  is  as  good  news  as  ever  I  hope 
to  hear." 

"  How  can  you  say  so!  It  fills  me  with  meas 
ureless  gloom.  I  cannot  but  look  ahead  and  won 
der  where  it  will  end.  And  yet  we  should  hope 
for  the  best."  The  speaker  heaves  a  weary  sigh. 
"  Possibly  the  mother  country  may  learn  from 
this  experience  how  bitterly  in  earnest  Americans 
are,  and  be  thereby  led  to  mitigate  the  harshness 
of  her  attitude  toward  us." 

Planter  Paul  Jones  looks  his  emphatic  disbelief. 

"  There  will  be  no  softening  of  England's  atti 
tude.  Believe  me,  sir,  I'm  not  so  long  out  of 
London,  but  what  I'm  clear  as  to  the  plans  and 
purposes  of  King  George  and  his  ministers.  The 
Tories  have  deliberately  forced  the  present  situa 
tion." 

"  Forced  the  situation!    You  amaze  me!  ' 

"  Sir,  my  name  is  not  Paul  Jones,  if  it  be  not 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

the  deliberate  design  of  King  George  and  his  ad 
visers  to  bring  about  a  clash  between  England 
and  these  colonies. " 

"  And  to  what  end,  pray?  ' 

"  To  give  them  an  excuse  for  imposing  mar 
tial  law  upon  us.  They  will  pour  a  cataract  of 
redcoats  upon  our  shores.  Musket  in  fist,  cannon 
to  back  them,  they  will  disperse  our  legislatures, 
take  away  our  charters  of  self-government. 
That  blood  at  Concord  and  Lexington  gives  them 
the  pretext  for  which  they  schemed.  They  can 
now  call  us  *  rebels;  '  and,  calling  us  '  rebels/ 
they  will  try  to  reduce  us — for  all  our  white  skins 
and  freeborn  blood — to  the  slavish  status  of  Hin- 
dostan. " 

Mr.  Livingston  stares,  while  this  long  speech  is 
reeled  off. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  he  asks  at  last,  "  that 
we  are  the  victims  of  a  Tory  plot?  Am  I  to 
understand  that  Concord  and  Lexington  were 
aimed  at  by  the  king?  ' 

"  Precisely  so ;  and  for  one  I'm  glad  the  issue's 
made.  We  have  now  but  the  one  alternative.  We 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

may  choose  between  abject  slavery  and  war  to  the 
hilts. " 

Mr.  Livingston's  severely  pompous  face,  as  the 
iron  truth  begins  to  overcome  him,  assumes  an 
expression  at  once  noble  and  high. 

"  Why,  then!  "  says  he,  "  if  such  be  the  Tory 
design,  war  we  shall  have."  Then,  following  a 
pause:  "  And  what  is  to  be  your  course  in  case 
of  war?  " 

4 '  I  shall  take  my  part  in  it,  never  fear !  This 
very  day  I  shall  write  to  friends  who  will  have 
seats  in  the  Congress  that  meets  next  month 
in  Philadelphia,  and  ask  them  to  wear  my  name 
in  their  minds.  I  am  theirs  so  soon  as  ever  they 
have  a  plank  afloat  to  put  me  on." 

The  pair,  earnestly  talking,  reach  Hanover 
Square,  and  pause  in  front  of  "  The  Bible  and 
Crown." 

"  Here  we  are,"  says  Mr.  Livingston.  "  Now 
if  you'll  but  wait  until  I  give  orders  to  Master 
Eivington,  as  to  how  he  shall  print  and  circulate 
my  despatches,  I'll  have  you  up  to  the  house, where 

86 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

we  can  further  consider  this  business  over  a  bot 
tle  of  wine." 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  excuse  me,"  returns  Plant 
er  Paul  Jones.  He  has  been  making  plans  of  his 
own  while  they  talked.  i  i  I  trust  you  will  pardon 
me;  but  I  shall  have  no  more  than  time  to  write 
and  post  my  letters,  and  get  away  on  the  ebb  tide. 
Three  days  from  now  I  must  be  at  my  plantation 
by  the  Rappahannock,  putting  all  in  order  for  the 
storm." 

' '  Eemember !  ' '  cries  Mr.  Livingston,  as  he  and 
Planter  Paul  Jones  shake  hands  at  parting,  * '  my 
brother  Philip  will  be  in  the  coining  Congress. 
You  have  but  to  go  to  him,  he  is  as  much  your 
friend  as  is  either  Mr.  Washington  or  Mr.  Jeffer 
son.  I  shall  speak  to  Philip  of  you  before  the 
day  is  out." 

11  Say  to  your  brother,"  returns  Planter  Paul 
Jones,  "  that  I  shall  come  to  him  among  the 
first." 

The  winds  generously  flatter  the  little  sloop  on 
her  return  voyage.  She  came  north  slowly,  re- 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

luctantly ;  now,  with  the  wind  aft  and  all  but  blow 
ing  a  gale,  she  flies  southward  like  a  bird.  As 
Planter  Paul  Jones  boasted,  within  the  three  days 
after  seeing  the  last  of  Sandy  Hook,  he  steps 
ashore  on  his  own  domain  by  the  Eappahannock. 

Cato  and  Scipio  grin  in  exultation.  In  a  par 
donable  anxiety  to  open  the  eyes  of  plodding  fel 
low-slaves  of  the  tobacco  fields,  they  mendaciously 
shorten  the  sailing  time  out  of  New  York  by  forty- 
eight  hours,  and  declare  that  Planter  Paul  Jones 
brought  the  sloop  home  in  a  single  day. 

"  Fotch  um  home,  Marse  Paul  does,  faster  than 
a  wil '  duck  could  trabble !  "  is  their  story.  There 
upon,  the  innocent  tobacco  blacks  marvel,  open- 
mouthed,  at  the  far-travelled  Cato,  and  Scipio  of 
the  many  experiences. 

Planter  Paul  Jones,  on  whom  a  war-fever  is 
growing,  plunges  into  immediate  conference  with 
Duncan  Macbean. 

"  How  much  free  money  can  we  make?  "  he 
asks. 

The  old  Highlander  scratches  his  grizzled  locks. 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Then  he  thoughtfully  considers  the  inside  of  his 
Glengarry  bonnet,  which  he  takes  from  his  head 
for  that  purpose.  One  would  think,  from  his  long 
study  of  it,  that  he  keeps  his  accounts  in  its  lin 
ings.  The  inspection  being  over,  he  puts  it  back 
on  his  head. 

"•Now  there  s'uld  be  the  matter  of  three  thou 
sand  guineas  in  gold  in  Williamsburg, "  returns 
old  Duncan  Macbean;  "  besides  a  hunner  or  so 
siller  in  the  house.  I  can  gi'  ye  three  thousand 
guineas,  and  never  miss  the  feel  o'  them,  gin 
that'll  be  enou'." 

t 1  Three  thousand  guineas !  What  time  I  shall 
be  in  Philadelphia  it  should  keep  a  king!  Have 
it  set  to  my  credit,  Duncan,  in  Mr.  Ross'  bank  in 
Chestnut  Street  in  that  town.  I  shall  go  there  as 
soon  as  Congress  convenes." 

"  And  will  ye  no  be  back  home  agen?  "  asks 
Duncan,  his  bronzed  cheek  a  trifle  white. 

"  If  there's  war — and,  take  it  from  me,  there 
will  be — I  shall  not  return.  I  hope  to  sail  in  the 
first  warship  that  flies  the  colors  of  the  Colonies." 

89 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Then,  grasping  old  Duncan's  hand  in  a  grip  of 
steel:  "  You  stay  here  and  run  the  plantation,  old 
friend !  Wherever  I  am,  I  shall  know  that  all  is 
right  ashore  while  you  are  here.  For  I  can  trust 
you." 

"  Ay!  ye  can  trust  me;  no  fear  o'  that!  "  and 
the  water  stands  in  the  old  eyes. 


In  making  you  a  lieutenant  we  lay  the  corner-stone  of 

the  American  Navy."  Page 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  PLANTEE  TURNS  LIEUTENANT 

"  It  was  Mr.  Adams  who  opposed  you.  The 
best  place  I  could  make  was  that  of  lieutenant. 
Mr.  Adams  wouldn't  hear  of  you  as  a  captain; 
and  since,  with  General  Washington,  Virginia  and 
the  Southern  Colonies  have  been  given  control  of 
the  Army,  his  claim  of  the  Navy  for  Massachu 
setts  and  the  Northern  Colonies  finds  general  con 
sent.  Commodore  Hopkins  and  four  of  the  five 
captains,  beginning  with  Mr.  Adams'  protege 
Dudley  Saltonstall,  go  to  New  England.  The  most 
that  I  could  make  Mr.  Adams  agree  to,  was  that 
you  should  be  set  at  the  head  of  the  list  of  lieu 
tenants." 

1 1  I  am  sorry,  sir,  that  Mr.  Adams  holds  a  poor 
opinion  of  me."  This  with  a  sigh.  "  It  was  my 
dream  to  be  a  captain,  and  have  a  ship  of  my 
own.  However,  I  am  here  to  serve  the  cause, 
rather  than  promote  the  personal  fortunes  of  Paul 

91 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Jones.  Let  the  list  go  as  it  is;  the  future  doubt 
less  will  bring  all  things  straight.  I  am  free  to 
say,  however,  that  from  the  selections  made  by 
Mr.  Adams,  as  you  repeat  them,  I  think  he  has 
provided  for  more  courts-martial  than  victories. ' ' 
The  two  gentlemen  in  talk  are  Mr.  Hewes,  mem 
ber  of  the  Colonial  Congress  from  North  Caro 
lina,  and  Planter  Paul  Jones.  Mr.  Hewes  is  old 
and  worn  and  sick,  and  only  his  granite  resolution 
keeps  him  at  the  seat  of  government. 

"  Mr.   Hancock, "   continues   Mr.   Hewes,   "  is 
also  from  Massachusetts,  and  as  chairman  of  our 
committee  he  gave  Mr.  Adams  what  aid  he  could. 
There 's  one  honor  you  may  have,  however ;  I  ar 
ranged  for  that.    The  issuance  of  the  commissions 
is  with  Mr.  Hancock,  and  if  you'll  accompany  me 
to  the  Hall  you  will  be  given  yours  at  once.    That 
will  make  you  the  first,  if  not  the  highest,  naval 
officer  of  the  Colonies  to  be  commissioned. " 
"  On  what  ship  am  I  to  serve?  " 
"  The  Alfred,  Captain  Saltonstall. " 
Eaw   and   bleak    sweep    the   December   winds 
through  the  bare  streets,  as  the  two  go  on  their 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

way  to  the  Hall,  where  Congress  holds  its  sittings. 
Fortunately,  as  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones  phrases  it, 
the  wind  is  ' '  aft, ' '  and  so  Mr.  Hewes,  despite  his 
weakness,  makes  better  weather  of  it  than  one 
would  look  for. 

"  I'll  have  a  carriage  home,"  says  he,  panting 
a  little,  as  the  stiff  breeze  steals  his  breath  away. 

"  I  can't,"  breaks  forth  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones, 
after  an  interval  of  silence — ' '  I  can 't  for  the  life 
of  me  make  out  how  I  incurred  the  enmity  of  Mr. 
Adams.  I've  never  set  foot  in  Boston,  never 
clapped  my  eyes  on  him  before  I  came  to  this  city 
last  July." 

Mr.  Hewes  smiles.  "  You  sacrificed  interest  to 
epigram, ' '  says  he.  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones  glares 
in  wonder.  ' '  Let  me  explain, ' '  goes  on  Mr.  Hewes, 
answering  the  look.  * '  Do  you  recall  meeting  Mr. 
Adams  at  Colonel  Carroll's  house  out  near  Schuyl- 
kill  Falls?  " 

"  That  was  last  October." 

"  Precisely!  Mr.  Adams'  memory  is  quite 
equal  to  last  October.  The  more,  if  the  event  re 
membered  were  a  dig  to  his  vanity." 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

1 '  A  dig  to  his  vanity !  ' '  repeats  Lieutenant 
Paul  Jones  in  astonishment.  "  I  cannot  now  recall 
that  I  so  much  as  spoke  a  word  to  the  old  polar 
bear." 

"  It  wasn't  a  word  spoken  to  him,  but  one 
spoken  of  him.  This  is  it:  Mr.  Adams  told  an 
anecdote  in  French  to  little  Betty  Faulkner.  Later 
you  must  needs  be  witty,  and  whisper  to  Miss 
Betty  a  satirical  word  anent  Mr.  Adams'  French. " 

"Why,  then,"  interjects  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones, 
with  a  whimsical  grin,  "  I'll  tell  you  what  I  said. 
*  It  is  fortunate,'  I  observed  to  Miss  Betty,  '  that 
Mr.  Adams'  sentiments  are  not  so  English  as  is 
his  French.  If  they  were,  he  would  far  and  away 
be  the  greatest  Tory  in  the  world.'  " 

'  *  Just  so !  "  chuckles  Mr.  Hewes.  '  *  And, 
doubtless,  all  very  true.  None  the  less,  my  young 
friend,  your  brightness  cost  you  a  captaincy.  The 
mot  was  too  good  to  keep,  and  little  Betty  started 
it  on  a  journey  that  landed  it,  at  a  fourth  telling, 
slap  in  the  outraged  ear  of  Mr.  Adams  himself. 
Make  you  a  captain?  He  would  as  soon  think  of 
making  you  rich. ' J 

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The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

The  pair  trudged  on  in  silence,  Mr.  Hewes 
turning  about  in  his  mind  sundry  matters  of  co 
lonial  policy,  while  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones  solaces 
himself  by  recalling  how  it  is  the  even  year  to  a 
day  since  that  Norfolk  ball,  when  he  smote  upon 
the  scandalous  nose  of  Lieutenant  Parker. 

*  *  Now  that  I  'm  a  lieutenant  like  himself, ' '  runs 
the  warlike  cogitations  of  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones, 
"I'd  prodigiously  enjoy  meeting  the  scoundrel 
afloat.  I  might  teach  his  dullness  a  better  opinion 
of  us." 

Lieutenant  Paul  Jones  for  months  has  been 
hard  at  work ;  one  day  in  conference  with  the  Ma 
rine  Committee,  leading  them  by  the  light  of  his 
ship-knowledge ;  the  next  busy  with  adz  and  oakum 
and  calking  iron,  repairing  and  renewing  the  tot 
tering  hulks  which  the  agents  of  the  colonies  have 
collected  as  the  nucleus  of  the  baby  navy.  Over 
this  very  ship  the  Alfred,  on  which  he  is  to  sail 
lieutenant,  he  has  toiled  as  though  it  were  in 
tended  as  a  present  for  his  bride.  He  confidently 
counted  on  being  made  its  captain;  now  to  sail  as 
a  subordinate,  when  he  looked  to  have  command, 

95 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

is  a  bitter  disappointment.  Sail  he  will,  however, 
and  that  without  murmur ;  for  he  is  too  much  the 
patriot  to  hang  back,  too  strong  a  heart  to  sulk. 
Besides,  he  has  the  optimism  of  the  born  war  dog. 

11  Given  open  war,"  thinks  he,  il  what  more 
should  one  ask  than  a  cutlass,  and  the  chance  to 
use  it?  Once  we're  aboard  an  enemy,  it  shall  go 
hard,  but  I  carve  a  captaincy  out  of  the  situa 
tion." 

Congress  is  not  in  session  upon  this  particular 
day,  and  Mr.  Hewes  leads  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones 
straight  to  Chairman  Hancock  of  the  Marine  Com 
mittee.  That  eminent  patriot  is  in  his  committee 
room.  He  is  big,  florid,  proud,  and,  like  all  the 
Massachusetts  men  since  Concord  and  Lexington, 
a  bit  puffed  up.  No  presentation  is  needed ;  Mr. 
Hancock  and  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones  have  been 
acquainted  for  months.  The  big  merchant-states 
man  beams  pleasantly  on  the  new  lieutenant.  Then 
he  draws  Mr.  Hewes  into  a  far  window. 

"  I  can't  see  what's  got  into  Adams,"  says  Mr. 
Hancock,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper.  "  He 
burst  in  here  a  moment  ago,  and  declared  that  he 

96 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

meant  to  move,  at  the  next  session,  a  reconsidera 
tion  of  the  appointment  of  our  young  friend. ' ' 

"  And  now  where  pinches  the  shoe?  ' 

"He  says  that  Paul  Jones  isn't  two  years  out 
of  England ;  that  his  sympathies  must  needs  lean 
toward  King  George." 

"  It  will  be  news  if  the  patriotism  of  Mr.  Adams 
himself  stands  as  near  the  perpendicular  as  does 
that  of  Paul  Jones!  " 

"  And  next  he  urges  that  our  friend  is  a  man 
of  no  family." 

' '  Now,  did  one  ever  hear  such  aristocratic  bosh ! 
The  more,  since  our  cause  is  the  cause  of  human 
rights,  and  our  shout  '  Democracy!  '  I  shall  take 
occasion,  when  next  I  have  the  honor  to  meet  Mr. 
Adams  "—here  the  eyes  of  the  old  North  Caro 
linian  begin  to  sparkle — "  to  mention  this  subject 
of  families,  and  remind  him  that  it  might  worry 
the  Herald's  College  excessively,  if  that  seminary 
of  pedigrees  were  called  upon  to  back-track  his 
own." 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  sir!  "  and  the  merchant- 
statesman,  full  of  lofty  mollifications,  makes  a 

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The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

soothing  gesture  with  his  hands.  "  For  all  our 
sakes,  say  nothing  to  Mr.  Adams!  You  recall 
what  Doctor  Franklin  remarked  of  him:  '  He  is 
always  honest,  sometimes  great,  but  often  mad/ 
Let  us  suppose  him  merely  mad;  and  so  forgive 
him.  We  may  do  it  the  more  easily,  since  I  told 
him  that,  even  if  his  objections  were  valid,  he  was 
miles  too  late,  the  question  of  that  lieutenancy 
having  been  already  passed  upon  and  settled.  Let 
us  forget  Adams,  and  give  Paul  Jones  his  com 
mission." 

As  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones  receives  his  commis 
sion  from  Mr.  Hancock,  the  latter  remarks  with  a 
smile : 

"  You  have  the  first  commission  issued,  Lieu 
tenant  Jones.  If  the  simile  were  permissible  con 
cerning  anything  that  refers  to  the  sea,  I  should 
say  now  that,  in  making  you  a  lieutenant,  we  lay 
the  corner  stone  of  the  American  Navy." 

Lieutenant  Paul  Jones  bows  his  thanks,  but 
speaks  never  a  word.  This  silence  arises  from 
the  deep  emotions  that  hold  him  in  their  strong 
grip,  not  from  churlishness. 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

6 '  And  now, ' '  observes  Mr.  Hewes,  who  is  think 
ing  only  of  heaping  extra  honor  on  his  young 
friend,  "  since  we  have  a  fully  commissioned  offi 
cer  to  perform  the  ceremony,  suppose  we  make 
memorable  the  day  by  going  down  to  the  Alfred 
and  *  breaking  out  '  its  pennant.  Thus,  almost 
with  the  breath  in  which  we  commission  our  first 
officer,  we  will  have  also  commissioned  our  first 
regular  ship  of  war." 

"  Would  it  not  be  better/'  interposes  Mr.  Han 
cock,  thinking  on  the  possible  angers  of  Mr. 
Adams,  "  to  wait  for  the  coming  from  Boston  of 
Captain  Saltonstall?  " 

Mr.  Hewes  thinks  it  would  not.  Since  Mr. 
Hewes'  manner  in  thus  thinking  is  just  a  trifle 
iron-bound,  not  to  say  acrid,  Mr.  Hancock  decides 
that,  after  all,  there  may  be  more  peril  in  waiting 
for  Captain  Saltonstall  than  in  going  forward  with 
Lieutenant  Jones.  Whereupon,  Mr.  Hewes,  Mr. 
Hancock  and  Lieutenant  Jones  depart  for  the 
Alfred,  which  lies  at  the  foot  of  Chestnut  Street. 
In  the  main  hall  of  Congress  the  three  pick  up 
Colonel  Carroll,  Mad  Anthony  Wayne.  Mr.  Jeffer- 

99 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

son,  Mr.  Livingston,  and  Mr.  Morris.  These  gen 
tlemen,  regarding  the  event  as  the  formal  birth  of 
the  new  navy,  decide  to  accompany  the  others  in 
the  role  of  witnesses. 

The  flag  is  ready  in  the  lockers  of  the  Alfred — 
a  pine  tree,  a  rattlesnake,  with  the  words  "  Don't 
Tread  on  Me."  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones,  as  he 
shakes  out  the  bunting,  surveys  the  device  with 
no  favoring  eye. 

' '  I  was  ever, ' '  observes  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones, 
looking  at  Mr.  Hewes  but  speaking  to  all — ' '  I  was 
ever  curious  to  know  by  whose  queer  fancy  that 
device  was  adopted.  It  is  beyond  me  to  fathom 
how  a  venomous  serpent  could  be  regarded  as  the 
emblem  of  a  brave  and  honest  people  fighting  to 
be  free." 

After  delivering  this  opinion,  which  is  tacitly 
agreed  to  by  the  others,  the  flag  is  bent  on  the 
halyards,  and  "  broken  out."  Also,  a  ration  of 
grog  is  issued  to  the  crew — so  far  as  the  Alfred 
is  blessed  with  a  crew — by  way  of  fixing  the  mo 
mentous  occasion  in  the  forecastle  mind.  The 
crew  cheers;  but  whether  the  cheers  are  for  the 

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The  flag  is  bent  on  the  halyards  and  '•  broken  out. 


Page  100. 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

grog,  or  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones  who  orders  it,  or 
the  rattlesnake  pine  tree  ensign  that  causes  the 
order,  no  one  may  say. 

Following  the  "  breaking  out,"  the  grog  and 
the  cheers,  Mr.  Hewes,  Mr.  Hancock  and  their  fel 
low-statesmen,  retire — the  day  being  over  cold — 
to  the  land,  while  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones,  now  and 
until  the  coming  of  Captain  Saltonstall  in  com 
mand  of  the  Alfred,  remains  aboard  to  take  up  his 
duty  as  a  regularly  commissioned  officer  in  the 
regular  navy  of  the  colonies. 


101 


CHAPTEE  IX 


Four  ships — the  Alfred,  Captain  Saltonstall,  in 
the  van,  with  Commodore  Hopkins  in  command 
of  the  squadron — sail  away  on  a  rainy  February 
day.  They  clear  Cape  Henlopen,  and  turn  their 
untried  prows  south  by  east  half  south.  The  fell 
purpose  of  Commodore  Hopkins  is  to  harry  the 
Bahamas. 

It  will  be  nowhere  written  that  Commodore 
Hopkins,  in  his  designs  upon  the  Bahamas,  in  any 
degree  succeeds.  Eight  weeks  later,  the  four  ships 
come  scudding  into  New  London  with  the  fear  of 
death  in  their  hearts.  An  English  sloop  of  war 
darted  upon  them,  they  say,  off  the  eastern  end  of 
Long  Island,  and  they  escaped  by  the  paint  on 
their  planks. 

Lieutenant  Paul  Jones  of  the  Alfred  is  afire  with 
anger  and  chagrin  at  the  miserable  failure  of  the 

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The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

cruise,  and  goes  furiously  ashore,  nursing  a  pur 
pose  of  charging  both  Commodore  Hopkins  and 
Captain  Saltonstall  with  every  maritime  offence, 
from  sea-idiocy  to  cowardice.  He  is  cooled  off 
by  older  and  more  prudent  heads.  Also,  Commo 
dore  Hopkins  is  summarily  dismissed  by  Congress, 
while  Captain  Saltonstall  takes  refuge  behind  the 
broad  skirts  of  his  patron  Mr.  Adams.  Thus,  that 
first  luckless  cruise  of  the  infant  navy,  con 
ceived  in  ignorance  and  in  politics  brought  forth, 
achieves  its  dismal  finale  in  investigations,  votes 
of  censure,  and  dismissals,  a  situation  which  goes 
far  to  justify  those  December  prophecies  of  Lieu 
tenant  Paul  Jones,  that  Mr.  Adams,  by  his  selec 
tions  for  commodore  and  captains,  arranged  for 
more  courts-martial  than  victories. 

It  has  one  excellent  result,  however;  it  teaches 
Congress  to  give  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones  the  sloop 
Providence,  and  send  him  to  sea  with  a  command 
of  his  own.  "With  him  go  his  faithful  blacks, 
Scipio  and  Cato;  also,  as  "  port-fire,"  a  red  In 
dian  of  the  Narragansett  tribe,  one  Anthony  Jere 
miah  of  Martha's  Vineyard. 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

The  little  sloop — about  as  big  as  a  gentleman's 
yacht,  she  is — clears  on  a  brilliant  day  in  June. 
For  weeks  she  ranges  from  Newfoundland  to  the 
Bermudas — seas  sown  with  English  ships  of  war. 
Boatswain  Jack  Robinson  holds  this  converse  with 
Polly  his  virtuous  wife,  when  the  Providence 
again  gets  its  anchors  down  in  friendly  Yankee 
mud. 

"  And  what  did  you  do,  Jack!  "  demands  wife 
Polly,  now  she  has  him  safe  ashore. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  he — that's  the  captain- 
does,  when  first  we  puts  to  sea.  He's  only  a  lef- 
tenant — Lef tenant  Paul  Jones;  but  he  ought  to 
be  a  captain,  and  so,  d'ye  see,  my  girl,  I'll  call 
him  captain.  What  does  the  captain  do,  says  you, 
when  once  he's  afloat?  As  sure  as  you're  on 
my  knee,  Polly,  no  sooner  be  we  off  soundings 
than  he  passes  the  word  for'ard  for  me  to  fetch 
him  the  cat-o '-nine-tails — me  being  bo 'sen.  Aft  I 
tumbles,  cat  and  all,  wondering  who 's  to  have  the 
dozen. 

"  '  Chuck  it  overboard,  Jack!  '  says  he,  like 
that. 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  '  Chuck  what,  capt'n?  '  says  I,  giving  my  fore 
lock  a  tug. 

' '  '  Chuck  the  cat !  '  says  he. 
'  "  ;  The  cat!  '  says  I,  being  as  you  might  say 
taken  a-back,  and  wondering  is  it  rum. 

"  '  Ay !  the  cat !  '  he  says.  Then,  looking  me 
over  with  an  eye  like  a  coal,  he  goes  on:  ^  I  can 
keep  order  aboard  my. ship  without  the  cat.  Be 
cause  why;  because  I'm  the  best  man  aboard  her/ 
he  says;  and  there  you  be." 

"  And  did  the  cat  go  overboard,  Jack?  " 

' '  Overboard  of  course,  Polly.  And  being  nicely 
fitted  with  little  knobs  of  lead  on  the  nine  tails  of 
her,  down  to  the  bottom  like  a  solid  shot  goes  she. 
And  so,  d'ye  see,  we  goes  cruising  without  the 
cat." 

' '  Did  you  take  no  prizes  ?  ' 

"  We  sunk  eight,  and  sent  eight  more  into  Bos 
ton  with  prize  crews  aboard.  Good  picking,  too, 
they  was." 

"  And  you  had  no  battles  then?  " 

"  No  battles,  Polly;  and  yet,  at  the  close  of  the 
cruise,  we're  all  but  done  for  by  a  seven ty-four- 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

gun  frigate  off  Montauk.  The  captain  twists  us 
out  of  the  frigate's  mouth  by  sheer  seaman 
ship." 

"  Now  how  was  that,  Jack!  "  cries  Polly, 
breathless  and  all  ears. 

"  We  comes  poking  'round  the  point,  d'ye  see, 
and  runs  blind  into  her.  We  beats  to  wind'ard; 
so  does  the  frigate.  And  she  lays  as  close  to  the 
wind  as  we — and  closer,  Polly.  Just  as  she  thinks 
she  has  only  to  reach  out  and  snap  us  up,  the 
captain — he  has  the  wheel  himself — wears  sud 
denly  round  under  easy  helm,  and  gets  the  wind 
free.  This  sort  o'  takes  the  frigate  by  surprise, 
and,  instead  of  wearing,  she  starts  to  box  about. 
She's  standing  as  close-hauled  as  her  trim  will 
bear  at  the  time.  So,  as  I  says,  as  he  wears 
'round,  the  frigate  jams  her  helm  down,  and  luffs 
into  the  teeth  of  the  gale.  There's  a  squall  cat's- 
pawing  to  wind'ard  that  she  ought  to  have  seen, 
and  would  if  she'd  had  our  captain.  But  she  never 
notices.  So,  d'ye  see,  my  girl,  the  frigate  don't 
hold  her  luff,  and  next  the  squall  takes  her  in  the 
face.  She  loses  her  steering  way,  gets  took  aback ; 

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The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

and  we  showing  a  clean  pair  of  heels,  with  the 
wind  free,  on  the  sloop's  best  point  of  sailing. 
And  there  you  be :  We  leaves  the  frigate  to  clear 
her  sheets  and  reeve  preventers  at  her  leisure— 
we  snapping  muskets  at  her  from  our  taffer-rail, 
by  way  of  insult,  Polly!  " 

"  Your  captain's  too  daring,  Jack/'  says  Polly, 
who  is  a  prudent  woman. 

"  That's  what  I  tells  him,  Polly.  '  Cap'n,'  says 
I, '  discretion  is  the  better  part  of  valor. '  At  that 
he  gives  me  a  wink.  '  So  it  is,  my  mate,'  says 
he,  '  and  damned  impudence  is  the  better  part  of 
discretion.  And  now,'  says  he,  '  the  frigate  being 
all  but  hulldown  astern,  you  may  take  this  wheel 
yourself,  while  I  goes  down  to  supper. ' 

When  Lieutenant  Paul  Jones  is  again  on  dry 
land,  he  finds  two  pieces  of  news  awaiting  him. 
One  is  a  letter  from  Mr.  Jefferson,  enclosing  his 
commission  as  a  captain  fully  fledged.  The  other 
is  old  Duncan  Macbean  in  person,  and  his  sunken 
cheek  and  leaden  eye  tell  of  troubles  on  the  far- 
off  Eappahannock. 

"  It  was  Lord  Dunmore,"  says  old  Duncan, 
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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

very  pale,  his  voice  a-quaver.  '  *  He  heard  of  you 
among  the  ships,  and  wanted  revenge." 

"  And  the  villain  took  it!  " 

' i  Ay,  he  took  it  like !  He  burned  mansion,  barn, 
flour-mill— every  building's  gone,  and  never  stick 
nor  stone  to  stand  one  a-top  t'ither  on  the  whole 
plantation. ' ' 

"  What  else?  " 

"  He  killed  sheep  and  swine  and  cattle,  and 
drove  away  the  horses;  there's  never  the  hoof  left 
walking  about  the  place.  Nothing  but  the  stripped 
land  is  left  ye."  , 

"  But  the  slaves?  " 

"  His  lordship  took  them,  too,  to  sell  them  in 
Jamaica. ' ' 

Captain  Paul  Jones  turns  white  as  linen  three 
times  bleached.  His  eyes  are  hard  as  jade.  Then 
he  tosses  up  his  hands,  with  a  motion  of  sorrow. 

' 1  My  poor  blacks !  "  he  cries.  ' i  The  plantation 
was  to  them  a  home,  not  a  place  of  bondage.  Now 
they  are  torn  away,  to  die  of  pestilence  or  under 
the  lash,  in  the  cane  fields  of  Jamaica.  The  price 
of  their  poor  bodies  is  to  swell  the  pockets  of  our 

108 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

noble  English  slave-trader.  This  may  be  Lord 
Dunmore's  notion  of  civilized  war.  For  all  that 
I  shall  one  day  exact  a  reckoning."  Then,  rest 
ing  his  hand  on  old  Duncan 's  shoulder:  "  How 
ever,  we  have  seen  worse  campaigns,  old  friend! 
We'll  do  well  yet!  I've  still  one  fortune — my 
sword;  still  one  prospect — the  prospect  of  laying 
alongside  the  enemy." 


109 


CHAPTER   X 

THE    COUNSEL    OF    CADWALADER 

Philadelphia  is  experiencing  a  cool  June,  and  in 
a  sober,  Quakerish  way  shows  grateful  for  it.  The 
windows  of  General  Washington's  apartments, 
looking  out  into  Chestnut  Street,  are  raised  to  let 
in  the  weather  and  the  urbane  sun,  not  too  hot, 
not  too  cool,  casts  a  slanting  glance  into  the  room, 
as  though  moved  of  a  solar  curiosity  concerning 
the  mighty  one  who  inhabits  them.  The  sun, 
doubtless,  goes  his  way  fully  satisfied;  General 
Washington  himself  is  there,  in  casual  talk  with 
the  Marquis  de  Lafayette. 

There  is  a  marked  difference  between  the  Gen 
eral  and  the  Marquis;  the  former  tall,  powerful, 
indomitable — the  type  American;  the  latter  ner 
vous,  optimistic,  full  of  romantic  heroisms — the 
type  French.  The  General  is  speaking;  his  man 
ner  a  model  of  the  courteous  and  the  suave.  For 

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T  he    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

the  young  Marquis  is  a  peer  of  France,  the  head 
of  a  party,  and  may  be  held  as  carrying  at  his 
heels  a  third  of  French  sentiment  and  French  in 
fluence.  It  is  not  what  he  brings,  but  what  he 
leaves  behind  him,  that  makes  the  young  Marquis 
important. 

The  talk  between  the  General  and  the  Marquis 
is  running  on  Captain  Paul  Jones. 

"  It  surprises  me,"  the  General  is  saying,  "  it 
surprises  me,  my  dear  Marquis,  to  learn  that  you 
know  Captain  Jones. " 

"  We  meet — Captaine  Jones  and  I,"  responds 
Lafayette,  in  a  choppy,  fervent  fashion  of  Eng 
lish,  that  carries  something  more  than  a  mere 
flavor  of  Paris,  "  we  meet,  my  dear  General,  in 
Alexandria  by  the  Potomac,  when  I  come  North 
from  the  Carolina,  where  I  disbark.  Captaine 
Jones  he  assist  in  Alexandria  to  find  horses  to 
bring  me  here." 

"  And  you  believe,  as  does  he,  that  a  best  use 
that  can  be  made  of  him  is  to  give  him  a  ship,  and 
send  him  to  Europe !  ' 

' '  Certaine,  General,  certaine !  Give  him  a  good 
111 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

ship,  and  let  him  hawk  at  England  with  it.  It 
should  be  a  quick,  smart  ship,  that  they  may  not 
catch  him.  Give  him  such  a  vessel,  General,  and 
he  will  keep  five  hundred  English  boats  at  home 
to  guard  the  British  coasts. " 

"  You  think,  Marquis,  that  he  would  make  a 
good  impression  in  France?  ' 

"  The  best,  General;  the  best!  Captaine  Jones 
has — what  you  calif — the  aplomb,  yes,  and  the 
grace,  the  charm,  the  dash  to  captivate  the  fancy 
of  my  countrymen — ever  brave,  the  French,  they 
love  a  brave  man  like  Captaine  Jones!  More, 
General,  he  speaks  the  French  language,  and  that 
is  most  important. ' ' 

General  Washington  stalks  up  and  down  the 
polished,  hardwood  floor,  wearing  a  thoughtful 
face.  As  he  turns  to  speak,  he  is  interrupted  by 
an  obsequious  black  attendant — one  of  those  body 
slaves  brought  from  Mount  Vernon. 

"  Pardon,  Gin'ral,"  says  the  grizzled  old  darky, 
as  he  pokes  his  grinning  head  in  at  the  door; 
ie  Cap'n  Jones  presents  his  comp'ments,  sare;  an' 
can  he  come  up  1  ' 

112 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

General  Washington  makes  a  sign  of  assent,  and 
the  grizzled  old  servitor  smirks  and  smiles  and 
bows  himself  backward  into  the  hall. 

There  are  two  pairs  of  feet  heard  climbing  the 
stair;  the  elastic  step  belongs  to  Captain  Paul 
Jones,  the  more  stolid  is  that  of  Mr.  Morris,  who, 
using  the  familiarity  of  a  closest  friendship,  walks 
in  on  General  Washington  unannounced. 

"  The  Marquis  was  just  saying/'  observes  Gen 
eral  Washington  to  Captain  Paul  Jones,  when 
greetings  are  over  and  conversation,  to  employ  a 
nautical  phrase,  has  settled  to  its  lines,  "  that  he 
met  you  in  Virginia  as  he  came  up." 

' '  Yes,  General ;  I  had  been  having  a  look  at  my 
plantation,  which  Lord  Dunmore  did  me  the  honor 
to  lay  waste." 

"  Was  the  destruction  great?  ' 

"  The  torch  had  been  everywhere.  The  work 
could  not  have  been  more  complete  had  his  Lord 
ship  been  a  professional  incendiary."  Captain 
Paul  Jones  shrugs  his  wide  shoulders,  as  though 
dismissing  a  disagreeable  subject,  one  not  to  be 
helped  by  talk:  "  You  received  my  letter,  General 2 

113 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

I  was  so  rash  as  to  think  you  might  aid  me  in 
getting  the  new  frigate  Trumbull. ' ' 

11  Captain/'  returns  General  Washington/'  you 
will  understand  that  my  connection  with  the  army 
makes  any  interference  on  my  part  in  naval 
affairs  a  most  delicate  business.  I  must  give  my 
counsel  in  that  quarter  cautiously.  As  for  the 
Trumbull;  it  is,  I  fear,  already  claimed  by  Mr. 
Adams  for  Captain  Saltonstall. " 

"  Captain  Saltonstall!  "  cries  Captain  Paul 
Jones  in  a  fervor  of  bitterness.  "  General,  hear 
me!  I  sailed  lieutenant  in  the  Alfred  with  Cap 
tain  Saltonstall.  I  know  him,  and  do  not  scruple 
to  say  that  he  is  an  incompetent  coward.  Since 
he  went  ashore  in  New  London  after  that  dis 
graceful  cruise,  he  hasn't  shown  his  face  aboard 
ship.  He  was  ashamed  to  do  so.  Only  Mr.  Adams 
could  have  protected  him  from  the  court-martial 
he  had  earned.  On  my  side — if  I  must  plead  my 
own  cause — I've  made  two  cruises  since  then,  one 
in  the  Providence,  one  in  the  Alfred.  I've  taken 
twenty-four  prizes ;  some  of  them  by  no  means  un 
important  to  the  American  cause." 

114 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

' '  Ah,  yes !  ' '  interrupts  General  "Washington, 
his  steady  face  lighting  up  a  trifle;  "  you  mean 
the  Mellish  and  the  Bideford.  I  heard  how  you 
captured  the  winter  equipment  meant  for  Howe's 
army — ten  thousand  uniforms,  eleven  hundred  fur 
overcoats,  eleven  thousand  blankets,  besides  a  bat 
tery  or  two  of  field  guns  and  six  hundred  cavalry 
equipments.  You  did  us  a  timely  service,  Captain 
Jones.  Many  an  American  soldier  was  the 
warmer  last  winter,  because  of  the  Hellish  and  the 
Bideford.19 

"  I  am  glad,"  says  Captain  Paul  Jones,  not 
without  confusion,  "  to  learn  that  I  so  much 
pleased  you.  It  gives  me  courage  to  hope  that 
you  will  come  to  my  shoulder  against  Mr.  Adams 
and  his  pet  incompetent,  Saltonstall. " 

General  Washington  again  dons  his  manner  of 
grave  inscrutability,  and  falls  to  his  habit  of 
striding  up  and  down,  hands  locked  beneath  the 
buff-and-blue  flaps  of  his  coat. 

"  Captain  Jones,"  he  suddenly  breaks  forth, 
"  you  are  a  sailor:  What  do  you  do  afloat  in  case 
of  a  head  wind!  " 

115 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  A  head  wind?  "  repeats  Captain  Paul  Jones. 
"  Why,  sir,  if  it's  no  more  than  just  a  gale,  I  fall 
to  tacking,  sta 'board  and  port.  If  it  should  be 
aught  of  a  hurricane,  now,  I'd  set  a  storm  stays '1, 
heave  to,  and  wait  for  weather." 

"Quite  so!"  returns  the  General,  soberly. 
"  Well,  Captain  Jones,  one  may  find  headwinds 
ashore  as  well  as  afloat.  Now,  in  the  matter  of  the 
Truwibull,  I  should  advise  you  to  '  heave  to/  as 
you  say,  '  and  wait  for  weather.'  Mr.  Adams 
insists  on  Captain  Saltonstall ;  and  it  is  not  alone 
inconvenient,  it's  impossible,  with  the  Marine 
Committee  made  up  as  it  is,  to  oppose  him.  Be 
patient,  and  you  shall  not  in  the  end  fare  worse 
than  your  deserts." 

Captain  Paul  Jones  wheels  on  Mr.  Morris,  who, 
with  Lafayette,  has  kept  silence,  while  giving  in 
terested  ear  to  the  conversation. 

"•You  hear,  Mr.  Morris?  "  observes  Captain 
Paul  Jones,  manner  dogged  and  aggressive.  "  As 
I  warned  you  in  my  letter,  I  shall  now  prefer 
charges  against  Captain  Saltonstall— charge  him 
with  flat  cowardice  while  in  command  of  the 

116 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Alfred,  and  demand  a  court-martial.    Under  the 
circumstances,  I  deem  it  my  public  duty  so  to  do." 

Mr.  Morris  makes  a  gesture  of  dissent  and  re 
pressive  protest. 

"  My  dear  Captain, "  expostulates  Mr.  Morris, 
his  manner  pleading,  yet  full  of  authority;  pre 
cisely  the  manner  of  one  who  deals  with  a  trained 
tiger  which  he  is  willing  to  coax,  while  firmly  in 
tending  to  control — "  my  dear  Captain,  hear 
reason!  Your  charges  would  be  suppressed— 
pigeon-holed!  The  influence  of  Mr.  Adams  with 
the  Marine  Committee  is  supreme.  It  could,  let 
me  tell  you,  accomplish  much  more  than  merely 
silence  your  charges.  It  could  go  further,  and 
force  a  resolution  of  confidence  in  Captain  Salton- 
stall." 

"  Then,"  retorts  Captain  Paul  Jones,  inveter 
ate  as  iron,  "I've  still  a  shot  in  my  locker.  I 
shall  publish  his  cowardice  over  my  own  name ;  I 
shall  placard  every  street  corner ;  f or  I  think  the 
American  people  entitled  to  know  the  sort  of 
servant  they  have  had  in  Captain  Saltonstall. 
They  shall  not  risk  a  good  ship  and  a  brave 

117 


The     Story     of     Paul     Jones 

crew,  with  a  coward  in  the  dark;  and  so  I  tell 
you!  " 

"  Captain  Jones/ '  observes  General  Washing 
ton,  who,  cool  and  unruffled,  is  a  contrast  to  the 
disturbed  Mr.  Morris,  "  Captain  Jones,  as  a  gen 
tleman,  you  realize  what  would  be  the  result  of  a 
public  charge  of  cowardice  against  Captain  Sal- 
tonstallf  " 

"  He  would  challenge  you  instantly!  "  breaks 
in  Mr.  Morris. 

11  Precisely!  "  says  Captain  Paul  Jones,  with 
just  the  preliminary  glimmer  of  battle  in  his  hard 
brown  eyes.  ' i  As  you  say,  sir,  he  would  challenge 
me.  And  having  challenged  me,  I  should  take 
pleasure  in  doing  my  best  to  kill  him.  I  got  a 
pair  of  Galway  duelling  pistols  out  of  the  Bide- 
ford;  they  were  coming  to  Lord  Howe.  If  I  can 
lure  Captain  Saltonstall  to  the  field,  it  shall  go 
hard,  but  with  one  of  those  Irish  sawhandles  I  rid 
the  American  navy  of  him.  Once  I  have  him  at 
ten  paces,  it  will  take  something  more  than  the 
influence  of  Mr.  Adams  to  bring  him  safely  off. ' ' 

Mr.  Morris '  brow  colors;  General  Washington 
118 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 


takes  the  situation  more  at  ease.  He  even  gives 
way  briefly  to  a  shadowy  smile;  for  the  great 
patriot,  while  not  so  inflammable,  is  quite  as  com 
bative  as  any  Captain  Paul  Jones  of  them  all. 

"  You  have  taken  advice  on  this?  "  asks  Gen 
eral  Washington,  following  a  pause,  during  which 
everybody  has  had  time  to  more  or  less  digest 
Captain  Paul  Jones'  unique  plan  for  improving 
the  American  navy.  "  I  do  not  suppose  you  have 
gone  to  this  decision  without  counsel?  ' 

"  Sir;  I  am,  as  you  know,  both  prudent  and  con 
servative — no  one  more  so.  Certainly,  I've  taken 
counsel.  I  went  to  General  Cadwalader;  he  ex 
presses  himself  as  in  hearty  accord  with  me.  In 
deed,  it  is  understood  between  us  that  he  shall  act 
for  me  in  any  affair  I  may  have  with  Captain 
Caltonstall." 

At  the  mention  of  General  Cadwalader,  General 
AVashington  smiles  openly,  while  Mr.  Morris 
groans  and  throws  up  his  hands. 

"  Bless  me!  Cadwalader!  "  exclaims  Mr.  Mor 
ris,  when  he  can  command  his  tongue.  "  The 
worst  firebrand  in  the  country!  Cadwalader, 

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The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

forsooth !  who  has  ever  had  but  one  word  of  advice 
for  ^very  man — '  Fight !  '  "  Then,  abruptly  de 
scending  upon  Captain  Paul  Jones  with  all  the 
authority  of  a  father  addressing  a  favorite  but  re 
bellious  son : ' l  Paul ;  listen !  You  believe  me  your 
friend!  " 

"  Indubitably!  I  have  no  better  friend/' 
11  Then  let  me  tell  you,  Paul:  In  the  name  o.f 
that  friendship  this  thing  must  end — absolutely 
end.  If  youVe  drawn  up  any  accusation  of  cow 
ardice  against  Captain  Saltonstall,  you  must  burn 
it  and  forget  the  whole  affair.  You  must  dismiss 
this  subject  from  your  mind.  In  Cadwalader  you 
have  invited  the  wrong  kind  of  advice.  I  now 
give  you  the  right  kind.  The  General  will  tell  you 
so ;  your  friend,  the  Marquis,  will  tell  you  so.  And 
forasmuch  as  you  value  my  friendship  you  must 
obey  me." 

Mr.  Morris  in  his  earnestness  lays  a  paternal 
hand  on  the  shoulder  of  Captain  Paul  Jones,  his 
manner  a  composite  of  coax  and  command.  Be 
fore  the  latter,  who  is  visibly  shaken  by  the 
friendly  determination  of  Mr.  Morris,  can  frame 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

reply,  Lafayette — who  has  been  scrupulous  to 
maintain  a  polite  silence  from  first  to  last — inter 
feres. 

"  Our  good  friend,  Mr.  Morris/7  interjects 
Lafayette,  "  has  been  so  generous  as  to  refer  to 
me.  I  could  not  have  said  a  word  without;  since 
what  you  discuss  is  private  and  personal  to  your 
selves  as  Americans,  and  of  a  character  that  for 
bids  me,  a  Frenchman  and  an  alien  even  though 
a  friend,  voicing  my  views.  However,  since  Mr. 
Morris  has  so  complimented  me  as  to  make  his 
appeal  in  my  name,  I  must — in  all  respect  and 
friendship  for  Captain  Jones,  whom  I  admire— 
unite  my  voice  with  his.  The  more  readily  since 
I  can  take  it  upon  myself  to  promise  Captain 
Jones  that  if  he  will  cross  to  France,  with  a  let 
ter  I  shall  give  him  to  my  king,  a  fighting  ship  of 
frigate  strength  shall  be  his  within  the  month. M 

As  he  concludes,  Lafayette,  a  blush  reddening 
his  cheek — for  he  is  only  a  boy — extends  two 
hands  to  Captain  Paul  Jones  as  though,  fearful  of 
having  said  too  much,  he  would  mutely  apologize. 
Captain  Paul  Jones  seizes  the  hands  with  a 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

warmth  equal  to  the  other's;  and  the  incident, 
capping  as  it  does  the  fatherly  opposition  of  Mr. 
Morris,  puts  an  end  to  that  beautiful  plan,  so  full 
of  dire  promise  for  Captain  Saltonstall,  which  in 
their  mutual  belligerencies  Captain  Paul  Jones 
and  the  fire-fed  Cadwalader  have  formulated. 

1 '  Say  that  you  will  go  to  France,  my  friend !  ' ' 
urges  the  impulsive  young  Frenchman ;  '  <  say  that 
you  will  go !  I  will  exhaust  Auvergne,  and  all  of 
France  besides,  but  you  shall  have  the  promised 
ship. ' ' 

At  this,  General  Washington  interferes. 

' '  Forbear,  my  dear  Marquis !  ' '  says  he.  '  *  Cap 
tain  Jones  shall  go  to  France.  But  he  shall  go 
with  an  American  crew,  in  an  American  ship,  fly 
ing  the  American  flag."  Then,  to  Captain  Paul 
Jones :  "  Do  me  the  honor,  Captain,  to  hold  your 
self  in  readiness  to  obey  any  summons  I  may 
send.  Believe  me,  I  shall  count  myself  as  one 
without  influence,  if  you  do  not  hear  from  me 
within  the  week." 

Let  us  glance  ahead  two  years  for  the  final 
122 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

word  of  Captain  Saltonstall.  Captain  Paul  Jones, 
with  liis  hard-won  prize,  the  crippled  Serapis, 
creeps  into  the  Texel,  and  the  earliest  story 
wherewith  the  Dutch  regale  him  is  how  Captain 
Saltonstall,  weak,  forceless,  incompetent,  has  sur 
rendered  the  new,  thirty-two-gun  frigate,  Warren, 
to  the  English  in  Penobscot  Bay.  Captain  Paul 
Jones  hears  the  disgraceful  news  with  set  and 
angry  face. 

"  I  have  just  learned  the  miserable  fate  of  the 
Warren,"  he  writes  to  Mr.  Morris;  "  and  hearing 
it  I  reproach  myself.  If  I  had  obeyed  the  dictates 
of  my  sense  of  duty  on  a  Philadelphia  day  you 
will  recall,  instead  of  yielding  to  the  persuasions 
of  the  peacemakers,  our  flag  might  still  be  flying 
on  the  Warren!  " 


123 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE    GOOD    SHIP   KANGEK 

Four  days  of  listless  waiting  go  by,  and  Captain 
Paul  Jones  again  finds  himself  and  Mr.  Morris 
closeted  with  General  Washington. 

"  Captain  Jones, "  says  the  latter,  speaking 
with  a  kindly  gravity,  ' '  Mr.  Morris  and  I  have  so 
pushed  your  affairs  with  the  Marine  Committee 
that  to-morrow  Congress  will  pass  a  double  reso 
lution,  adopting  a  new  flag,  the  stars  and  stripes, 
and  appointing  you  to  command  the  Ranger. ' ' 

"  The  Ranger!  "  exclaims  Captain  Paul  Jones, 
beginning  to  glow.  "  Thanks,  General;  a  thou 
sand  thanks !  And  to  you  also,  Mr.  Morris,  whom 
I  shall  never  forget!  The  Ranger!  I  know  her! 
She  is  being  sparred  and  rigged  at  Portsmouth! 
New,  three  hundred  tons ;  a  beauty,  too,  they  tell 
me !  Gentlemen,  I  am  off  at  once  to  Portsmouth ! 
I  must  see  to  stepping  her  masts  and  mounting 
her  batteries  myself.'7 

124, 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

Captain  Paul  Jones,  all  eagerness,  is  on  his  feet, 
and  even  the  wise,  age-cold  Mr.  Morris  begins  to 
catch  his  fire. 

"  Eight!  "  cries  Mr.  Morris;  "  you  shall  start 
to-morrow!  v 

"  Captain  Jones, "  interrupts  the  General,  lay 
ing  a  large  detaining  hand  on  the  other's  arm, 
"  you  will  go  to  Portsmouth  and  look  after  your 
ship.  Also,  while  your  destination  is  France,  you 
must  wait  for  orders  to  sail.  I  may  have  weighty 
despatches  for  the  French  King — news  that  will 
shake  Europe/7 

June  is  as  cool  in  Portsmouth  as  it  is  in  Phil 
adelphia.  Cooler;  for  the  New  Hampshire 
breeze  has  in  it  the  chill  smell  of  those  snows 
that  lie  unmelted  in  the  mountains.  Captain 
Paul  Jones  comes  unannounced,  eyes  dancing  like 
those  of  a  child  with  a  new  toy,  and  seeks  the 
wharf  where  the  Ranger  is  being  fitted  to  her 
spars.  From  a  convenient  coign  he  looks  the 
Ranger  over,  and  evinces  a  master's  appreciation. 

"Nose  sharp!  Plenty  of  dead-rise  I  Lean 
125 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

lines !  ' '  lie  murmurs.  ' '  With  tlie  wind  anywhere 
abaft  the  beam,  she  should  race  like  a  greyhound ! 
Ah,  she's  a  beauty,  fit  to  warm  the  cockles  of  a 
sailor's  heart!  See  to  the  sheer  of  her! — as  deli 
cate  as  the  lines  of  a  woman's  arm!  " 

Up  comes  a  sturdy  figure  with  an  air  of  com 
mand,  an  officer's  hat  on  his  head,  a  ship-carpen 
ter's  adz  in  his  hand. 

"  This  is  Captain  Jones?  " 

"  Captain  Paul  Jones,  sir." 

"  Pardon  me  for  not  first  giving  my  name.  I'm 
Elijah  Hall,  who  is  to  sail  second  officer  with  you 
in  yon  Ranger. ' ' 

Captain  Paul  Jones  and  Lieutenant  Hall  fall 
into  instant  and  profound  confab  of  a  deeply  nau 
tical  complexion,  a  confab  quite  beyond  a  lands 
man's  comprehension,  wherein  such  phrases  as 
"  flush-decks,"  "  short  poop-deck,"  "  bilges," 
11  futtocks,"  and  "  knees  "  abound,  and  are  reeled 
off  as  though  their  use  gives  our  two  ship-enthu 
siasts  unbridled  satisfaction.  At  last  Lieutenant 
Hall  remarks,  pointing  to  three  long  sticks : 

"  There 're  her  masts,  sir.  They  were  taken  out 
126 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 


of  a  four-hundred-ton  Indiaman,  and  are  too  long 
for  a  three-lmndred-ton  ship  like  the  Ranger.  I 
was  thinking  I'd  cut  'em  off  four  feet  in  the  caps." 

' '  That  would  be  a  sin !  "  exclaims  Captain  Paul 
Jones,  voice  almost  religious  in  its  fervent  zeal. 
' '  Three  as  fine  pieces  of  pine  as  ever  came  out  of 
Norway,  too!  I'd  be  afraid  to  cut  'em,  Mr.  Hall; 
it  would  give  the  ship  bad  luck.  I'll  tell  you  what ! 
Fid  them  four  feet  lower  in  the  hounds ;  it  will 
amount  to  the  same  thing,  and  at  the  same  time 
save  the  sticks." 

Captain  Paul  Jones  goes  at  the  congenial  task 
of  fitting  out  the  Ranger  with  his  usual  day-and- 
night  energy.  When  he  finds  her  over-sparred, 
with  her  masts  too  long,  he  still  refuses  to  cut 
them  down,  but  shortens  yard  and  bowsprit,  jib- 
boom  and  spankerboom.  He  doesn't  like  the 
Marine  Committee's  armament  of  twenty  six- 
pounders,  and  proceeds  to  mount  four  six-pound 
ers  and  fourteen  long  nines. 

"  One  nine-pounder  is  equal  to  two  six-pound 
ers,"  says  Captain  Paul  Jones;  "  and,  since  it's 
I  who  must  put  to  sea  in  the  Ranger,  and  not  the 

127 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Marine  Committee,  nine-pounders  I'll  have,  and 
"Bay  no  more  about  it. ' ' 

The  New  Hampshire  girls,  on  the  Fourth  of 
July,  come  down  to  the  Ranger,  and  present  Cap 
tain  Paul  Jones  a  flag — red,  white,  and  blue — 
quilted  of  cloth  ravished  from  their  virgin  pet 
ticoats.  The  gallant  mariner  makes  the  New 
Hampshire  girls  a  speech. 

11  That  flag/'  cries  he,  "  that  flag  and  I,  as 
captain  of  the  Ranger,  were  born  on  the  same 
day.  We  are  twins.  We  shall  not  be  parted 
life  or  death;  we  shall  float  together  or  sink  to 
gether!  " 

These  brave  words,  in  the  long  run,  find  amend 
ment.  The  petticoat  flag  of  the  pretty  New 
Hampshire  girls  is  the  flag  which,  two  years  later, 
flies  from  the  Richard's  indomitable  peak  when 
Captain  Paul  Jones  cuts  down  the  gallant  Pierson 
and  his  Serapis.  After  that  fight  off  Scarbor 
ough  Head,  Captain  Paul  Jones  writes  to  the 
pretty  New  Hampshire  girls — for  he  ever  remem 
bers  the  ladies — recounting  the  last  destiny  of 
their  petticoat  ensign.  He  is  telling  of  the 

128 


Quilted  of  cloth  ravished  from  their  virgin  petticoats." 

Page  128. 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Richard's  death  throes,  as  viewed  from  the  blood- 
slippery  decks  of  the  conquered  Serapis: 

"  No  one  was  now  left  aboard  the  Richard  but 
my  dead.  To  them  I  gave  the  good  old  ship  to  be 
their  coffin ;  in  her  they  found  a  sublime  sepulcher. 
She  rolled  heavily  in  the  swell,  her  gun-deck  awash 
to  the  port-sills,  settled  slowly  by  the  head,  and 
sank  from  sight.  The  ensign  gaff,  shot  away  in 
the  action,  had  been  fished  and  put  in  place;  and 
there  your  flag  was  left  flying  when  we  abandoned 
her.  As  she  went  down  by  the  head,  her  taffrail 
rose  for  a  moment;  and  so  the  last  that  mortal 
eye  ever  saw  of  the  gallant  Richard  was  your  un- 
conquered  ensign.  I  couldn't  strip  it  from  the 
brave  old  ship  in  her  last  agony;  nor  could  I 
deny  my  dead  on  her  decks,  who  had  given  their 
lives  to  keep  it  flying,  the  glory  of  taking  it  with 
them.  And  so  I  parted  with  it ;  so  they  took  it  for 
their  winding  sheet. ' ' 

At  last  the  Ranger  is  ready  for  sea;  and  still 
those  belated  despatches  from  General  Washing 
ton  for  the  French  King  do  not  come.  One  cold 
October  day  a  horseman,  worn  and  haggard,  rides 

129 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

into  Portsmouth.  Stained,  dust-caked,  reeling  in 
his  saddle,  he  calls  for  Captain  Paul  Jones. 

11  Here,"  responds  that  gentleman.  "  What 
would  you  have?  ' 

"  I  come  from  General  Washington, "  cries  the 
man.  "  Burgoyne  has  surrendered!  Here  are 
your  despatches  for  France !  ' 

Captain  Paul  Jones  takes  the  packet,  stunned 
for  the  moment  by  the  mighty  news. 

"  And  now  for  food  and  drink,"  says  the  man 
faintly,  as  with  difficulty  he  slips  to  the  ground. 
"  One  hundred  and  eighty  miles  have  I  rode  in 
thirty  hours.  It  was  the  brave  news  kept  me 
going;  the  thought  of  those  beaten  English  held 
me  up  like  wine. ' ' 

"  One  hundred  and  eighty  miles!  "  cries  Cap 
tain  Paul  Jones.  ' '  Thirty  hours !  ' ' 

The  man  points  to  his  mount,  where  it  stands 
with  drooping  head  and  quivering  flank. 

"  That  is  the  tenth  I've  had.  Horse  flesh  and 
hard  riding  did  it !  ' 

Ten  minutes  after  the  despatches  are  put  in  his 
130 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

hands,  Captain  Paul  Jones  is  aboard  the  Ranger. 
Then  comes  the  tramp  of  forty  feet  about  the 
capstan.  Twenty  powerful  breasts  are  pressed 
against  the  capstan  bars,  and  the  Ranger  is  walked 
up  to  its  anchors,  while  aloft  the  brisk  top-men 
are  shaking  out  the  sails. 

' '  Anchor  up  and  down,  sir !  "  reports  Boat 
swain  Jack  Eobinson,  who  has  left  his  Polly  at 
home,  while  he  sails  with  the  Ranger. 

1 '  Anchor  up  and  down !  ' '  repeats  Captain  Paul 
Jones.  l  i  Bring  her  home !  ' 

With  a  "  Heave  ho !  "  the  Ranger's  anchors  are 
pulled  out  of  Portsmouth  sands.  Captain  Paul 
Jones  himself  takes  the  wheel  and  pays  off  its 
head  before  the  breeze,  already  bellying  the  fore 
sails. 

"  Give  her  every  stitch  you  have,  Mr.  Hall/' 
says  Captain  Paul  Jones.  l  i  We  must  be  clear  of 
the  Isles  of  Shoals  by  daybreak." 

"  And  then?  "  asks  Lieutenant  Hall. 

"  East,  by  south,  half  east !  And  Mr.  Hall,  day 
and  night,  blow  high,  blow  low,  spread  every  rag 
you've  got.  Burgoyne  has  surrendered.  Either 

131 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

I  shall  tear  the  sticks  out  of  the  Ranger,  or  spread 
that  news  in  France  in  thirty  days. '  ' 

"  More  haste,  less  speed!  "  murmurs  the  pru 
dent  Lieutenant  Hall;  and  so,  having  eased  his 
mind  like  a  true  seaman,  he  goes  forward  heatedly 
to  spread  sail. 

The  top-heavy  little  Ranger,  with  her  acre  of 
canvas,  heels  over  until,  with  decks  awash,  she 
glides  eastward  like  a  ghost. 

"  Pipe  all  hands  aft,  Mr.  Bo 'sen!  "  commands 
Captain  Paul  Jones. 

Boatswain  Jack  Eobinson  puts  his  whistle  to  his 
lips,  and  sends  a  shrill  call  singing  through  the 
ship.  The  crew  come  scampering  aft;  all  save  a 
contingent  aloft,  who  race  down  by  the  backstays, 
claw  under  claw,  as  might  so  many  cats.  Some  of 
our  old  friends  of  the  Providence  are  there — the 
aquatic  Scipio  and  Cato,  with  the  little  red  Indian 
port-fire,  Anthony  Jeremiah. 

"  My  men,"  cries  Captain  Paul  Jones,  "  we're 
off  for  France.  We  shall  meet  nasty  weather,  for 
it's  the  beginning  of  winter,  and  I  shall  steer  the 
northern  course.  It  is  to  be  a  case  of  crack-on- 

132 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

canvas,  foul  weather  or  fair :  and,  since  the  ship  is 
oversparred  and  cranky,  we  must  mind  her  day 
and  night.  To  make  all  safe,  the  watch  shall  be 
lap-watched,  so  as  to  keep  plenty  of  hands  on  deck. 
This  will  double  your  work,  but  I  shall  also  double 
your  grog.  Now,  my  hearties,  let  every  man 
among  you  do  his  duty  by  flag  and  ship.  Bur- 
goyne  has  surrendered,  and  it's  for  us  to  carry 
the  word  to  France.'7 

"  Shipmates,"  observes  Boatswain  Jack  Kobin- 
son,  judgmatically,  as  the  hands  go  tumbling  for 
ward,  "  shipmates,  the  old  Ranger  is  a  damned 
comfortable  ship.  '  Double  watches,  double 
work!  '  says  the  skipper;  but  also  i  Double  grog!  ' 
says  he.  Wherefore,  I  says  again,  the  old  Ranger 
is  a  damned  comfortable  ship." 

Eight  bells  now,  breakfast;  and  the  Isles  of 
Shoals  are  vanishing  over  the  Ranger's  stern. 
Suddenly  a  boyish  voice  strikes  up : 

"  So  now  we  had  him  hard  and  fast, 
Burgoyne  laid  down  his  arms  at  last, 
And  that  is  why  we  brave  the  blast, 
To  carry  the  news  to  France. ' ' 

133 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Captain  Paul  Jones  pauses  in  his  short  quar 
terdeck  walk,  cocks  his  ear,  and  listens.  The 
hoarse  crew  take  up  the  chorus : 

' '  Heigh  ho !  carry  the  news ! 
Go  carry  the  news  to  London, 
Tell  old  King  George  how  he 's  undone. 
Oh,  ho !  carry  the  news !  ' 

Boatswain  Jack  Eobinson,  observing  Captain 
Paul  Jones  listening,  becomes  explanatory. 

"  Only  a  bit  of  a  ditty,  Cap'n;  the  same  com 
posed  by  Midshipman  Hill,  d'ye  see,  in  honor  of 
this  here  cruise.  A  right  good  ballid,  too,  I  calls 
it;  and  amazin'  fine  for  a  lad  of  twenty,  who 
hardly  knows  a  reef-point  from  a  gasket." 

Vouchsafing  this,  Boatswain  Jack  Eobinson 
rolls  forward  with  walrus  gait,  chanting  as  he 
goes  in  a  voice  tuned  by  storms  and  broken  across 
capstan  bars,  the  hoarse  refrain : 

' '  Oh,  ho !  carry  the  news !  ' ' 

And  so  the  good  ship  Ranger  plows  eastward 
on  her  course.  Eighteen  hours  out  of  twenty-four, 

134 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

Captain  Paul  Jones  holds  the  deck.  In  the  end  he 
has  his  reward.  Just  thirty  days  after  the 
Ranger's  anchors  kissed  the  Portsmouth  sands 
good-by,  they  go  splashing  into  the  dull  waters  of 
the  Loire. 


135 


CHAPTER   XII 

HOW   THE    "  HANGER  "   TOOK   THE    "  DRAKE  >: 

Four  months  slip  by;  it  is  April,  and  the  idle 
Ranger  rides  in  the  harbor  of  Brest.  Morose,  sore 
with  inactivity,  Captain  Paul  Jones  seeks  out 
Doctor  Franklin  at  the  philosopher's  house  in 
Passy. 

' '  This  lying  by  rusts  me, ' '  Captain  Paul  Jones 
is  saying  as  he  and  Doctor  Franklin  have  a  turn 
in  the  garden.  The  latter  likes  the  thin  French 
sunshine,  and  gets  as  much  of  it  as  he  may. 
4 t  Yes,  it  rusts  me — fills  me  with  despair !  ' 

"  What  would  you  do,  then!  "  asks  Doctor 
Franklin,  his  coarse,  shrewd  face  quickening  into 
interest.  t  i  Have  you  a  cruise  mapped  out !  ' 

"  Now  I  thought,  if  youVe  no  objections,  I'd 
just  poke  the  Ranger's  nose  into  the  Irish  Sea, 
and  take  a  look  at  Whitehaven.  You  know  I  was 
born  by  the  Solway,  and  the  coast  I  speak  of  is 
an  old  acquaintance. ' ' 

136 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"I  see  no  objection,  Captain,  save  the  small- 
ness  of  your  ship." 

"  That  is  easily  answered;  for  I  give  you  my 
word,  Doctor,  the  little  Ranger  can  sail  round  any 
English  ship  on  the  home  station.  I  shall  be  safe, 
no  fear;  for  what  I  can't  whip  I  can  run  from." 

"  Have  you  spoken  to  my  brother  commis 
sioners!  ' 

Doctor  Franklin  looks  up,  a  grim,  expectant 
twinkle  in  his  gray  eyes.  Captain  Paul  Jones 
cracks  his  fingers  in  angry  impatience. 

"  Forgive  me,  Doctor,  if  I'm  frank  to  the  fron 
tiers  of  rudeness.  Of  what  avail  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Dean,  who  is  asleep?  Of  what  avail  to  speak  to 
Mr.  Lee,  who  surrounds  himself  with  British  spies 
like  that  creature  Thornton,  his  private  secretary? 
I  ask  you  plain  questions,  Doctor,  for  I  know  you 
to  be  a  practical  man." 

The  philosopher  grins  knowingly. 

"  Please  do  not  speak  of  British  spies  to  Com 
missioner  Lee,  Captain  Jones.  My  task  in  France 
is  enough  difficult  as  it  stands." 

"  And  on  that  account,  Doctor,  and  on  that 
137 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

alone,  I  have  so  far  refrained  from  saying  aught 
to  Mr.  Lee.  But  I  tell  you  I  misdoubt  the  man. 
His  fellow  Thornton  I  know  to  be  in  daily  com 
munication  with  the  English  admiralty!  he  clinks 
English  gold  in  his  pockets  as  the  wage  of  his 
treason.  This,  were  there  no  one  save  myself  to 
consider,  I  should  say  in  the  face  of  Arthur  Lee ; 
ay!  for  that  matter  in  the  face  of  all  the  Lees 
that  ever  hailed  from  Virginia.  I  tell  you  this, 
Doctor,  for  your  own  guidance. ' '  Then,  following 
a  pause:  "  Not  that  it  sets  politely  with  my  years 
to  go  cautioning  one  so  much  my  superior  in  age, 
wisdom  and  experience. ' ' 

The  philosopher  glances  up  from  the  violets. 

' i  Possibly,  Captain  Jones,  I  have  already  given 
myself  that  caution.  However,  concerning  your 
proposed  cruise:  I  shall  leave  all  to  your  judg 
ment.  Certainly,  our  warships,  as  you  say,  were 
meant  for  battle-work,  and  not  to  waste  their  lives 
junketing  about  French  ports. ' ' 

"  One  thing,  doctor,"  observes  Captain  Paul 
Jones,  at  parting:  "  Tell  your  fellow  commis 
sioners  that  I've  cleared  for  the  west  coast  of  Ire- 

138 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

land,  with  a  purpose  to  go  north-about  around  the 
British  islands.  If  you  let  them  hear  I'm  off  for 
Whitehaven,  I  give  you  my  honor  that,  with  the 
spy  Thornton  selling  my  blood  to  the  English  ad 
miralty,  I  shall  have  the  whole  British  fleet  at  my 
heels  before  I  reach  St.  George's  Channel." 


Captain  Paul  Jones,  in  command  of  the  Ranger, 
drops  in  at  Whitehaven.  With  twenty-nine  of  his 
lads  he  goes  ashore  of  a  dripping  morning,  pens 
up  the  sleepy  garrisons  of  the  two  forts,  and 
spikes  their  guns.  Then,  having  spikes  to  spare, 
he  makes  useless  a  shore  battery,  while  the  ballad- 
mongering  Midshipman  Hill,  with  six  men,  chases 
inland  one  hundred  coast  guardsmen  and  militia. 

Captain  Paul  Jones,  waxing  industrious,  at 
tempts  to  burn  the  shipping  which  crowds  the  tidal 
basin  at  Whitehaven.  In  these  fire-lighting  efforts 
he  succeeds  to  the  extent  of  five  ships ;  after  which 
he  rows  out  to  the  Ranger.  Thereupon  the  people 
and  militia,  who  crowd  the  terror-smitten  hills 
round  about,  come  down  into  their  town  again. 

139 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Captain  Paul  Jones  crosses  now  to  the  north 
shore  of  the  Solway  for  a  morning  call  upon  the 
Earl  of  Selkirk.  He  schemes  to  capture  that  pa 
trician,  and  trade  him  back  to  the  English  for  cer 
tain  good  American  sailors  whom  they  hold  as 
prisoners.  The  plan  falls  through,  since  the  noble 
earl  is  not  at  home.  In  lieu,  the  Ranger's  crew 
take  unto  themselves  the  Selkirk  plate,  which  Cap 
tain  Paul  Jones  subsequently  buys  from  them, 
paying  the  ransom  from  his  own  purse,  and  re 
turns  with  his  compliments  gallantly  expressed  in 
a  letter  to  the  earl. 

From  the  Solway,  the  little  Ranger  stands  west 
by  north  across  the  Irish  Sea.  Off  Carrickfergus 
she  finds  the  Drake,  an  English  sloop  of  war  that 
is  two  long  nines  the  better  than  the  Ranger  in  her 
broadsides,  and  thirty-one  men  stronger  in  her 
crew.  To  save  trouble,  the  Ranger  is  hove  to  off 
the  mouth  of  Belfast  Lough,  and  waits  for  the 
Drake  to  come  out.  This  the  English  ship  does 
slowly  and  with  difficulty,  being  on  the  wrong  side 
of  wind  and  tide. 

"  The  sun  is  no  more  than  an  hour  high," 
140 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

suggests  Lieutenant  Wallingford  wistfully. 
"  Shouldn't  we  go  to  meet  them,  sir?  ' 

Captain  Paul  Jones  shakes  his  head. 

"  We've  better  water  here/'  says  he.  "  Be 
sides,  the  moon  will  be  big;  we'll  fight  them  by 
the  light  of  the  moon. ' ' 

Slowly,  reluctantly,  the  Drake  forges  within 
hail.  She  is  in  doubt  about  the  Ranger. 

11  What  ship  is  that?  "  cries  the  Drake. 

Captain  Paul  Jones  puts  his  speaking-trumpet 
to  his  lips. 

"  The  American  ship  Ranger,"  he  replies. 
"  Come  on;  we're  waiting  for  you." 

Without  further  parley,  broadside  answers 
broadside  and  the  battle  is  on. 

Both  ships  head  north,  the  Ranger  having  the 
weather-gage.  This  last  gives  Captain  Paul  Jones 
the  nautical  upperhand.  In  ship-fighting,  the 
weather-gage  is  equivalent  to  an  underhold  in 
wrestling. 

There  is  a  swell  on,  and  the  two  ships  roll  heav 
ily.  They  shape  their  course  side  by  side,  keeping 
within  musket-reach  of  each  other.  The  breeze 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

is  on  the  starboard  quarter,  and  a  little  faster  than 
the  ships.  By  this  good  luck,  the  smoke  of  the 
broadsides  is  sent  drifting  ahead,  and  the  line  of 
sight  between  the  ships  kept  free.  On  they  crawl, 
broadside  talking  to  broadside;  only  the  Ameri 
cans  are  smarter  with  their  guns,  and  fire  three 
to  the  Drake's  two. 

Twilight  now  invests  the  scene  in  gray,  as  the 
sun  sinks  behind  the  close,  dark  Irish  headlands  to 
the  west.  Night,  cloudless  and  serene,  comes  down ; 
the  round,  full  moon  shines  out,  and  its  mild  rays 
mingle  and  merge  with  the  angry  glare  of  the  bat 
tle-lanterns.  Captain  Paul  Jones  from  his  narrow 
quarterdeck  watches  the  Drake  through  his  night 
glass. 

11  Good!  Very  good!  "  he  murmurs,  as  the 
Drake's  foremast  is  splintered  by  a  round  shot. 
Then,  to  the  Salem  man  who  has  the  wheel: 
"  Bring  us  a  little  closer,  Mr.  Sargent;  a  little 
closer  in,  if  you  please. " 

Captain  Paul  Jones  again  rivets  his  glass  upon 
the  Drake.  An  exclamation  escapes  him.  It  comes 
upon  him  that  his  gunners  are  having  advantage 

142 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

of  the  roll  of  the  ships,  and  time  their  broadsides 
so  as  to  catch  the  Drake  as,  reeling  to  port,  she 
brings  up  her  starboard  side.  By  this  plausible 
manoeuvre,  those  sagacious  ones  who  train  the 
Ranger's  guns  are  sending  shot  after  shot  through 
and  through  the  Drake,  between  wind  and  water, 
half  of  them  indeed  below  the  water-line.  Captain 
Paul  Jones,  through  his  glass,  makes  out  the  black 
round  shot-holes ;  they  show  as  thick  as  cloves  in 
the  rind  of  a  Christmas  ham. 

"  Why!  "  he  exclaims,  "  this  doesn't  match  my 
book !  I  must  put  a  stopper  on  such  work. ' ' 

Shutting  up  his  glass,  Captain  Paul  Jones  leaps 
from  the  after  flush-deck  down  among  his  sailors. 
Drunk  with  blood,  grimed  of  powder,  naked  to  the 
waist,  the  black  glory  of  battle  in  their  hearts, 
they  merrily  work  their  guns.  It  is  as  he  beheld 
from  the  after-deck.  The  Ranger  rolls  to  port  as 
the  Drake,  all  dripping,  is  fetching  up  her  star 
board  side. 

<  <  Fire  i  >  >  cries  the  master-gunner,  and  ' l  Fire ! ' ' 
runs  the  word  along  the  battery. 

The  long  nines  respond  with  flame  and  bellow! 
143 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Then  they  race  crashingly  inboard  with  the  recoil, 
and  are  caught  by  the  breeching  tackle.  With  that 
the  smoky  work  is  all  to  do  over  again.  The 
brawny  sailor  men — from  Nantucket,  from  Mar 
tha  's  Vineyard,  from  Sag  Harbor,  from  New  Lon 
don  and  Barnstable  and  Salem  and  Boston  and 
Portsmouth  they  are — shirtless  and  shoeless,  bare 
foot  and  stripped  to  the  belts,  ply  sponge  and  ram 
mer.  Again  each  black-throated  gun  is  ready 
with  a  stomachful  of  solid  shot. 

"  Show  'em  your  teeth,  mates!  " 

The  guns  rattle  forward  on  their  carriages. 
The  quick  port-fires  stand  ready,  blowing  their 
matches.  There  is  a  brief  pause,  as  the  master- 
gunner  waits  for  that  fatal  downward  roll  to  port 
which  offers  and  opens  the  Drake's  starboard  side 
almost  to  the  keel. 

6  i  Ah !  I  see,  Mr.  Starbuck, ' '  begins  Captain  Paul 
Jones  sweetly,  addressing  the  master-gunner. 
"  Your  effort  is  to  hull  the  enemy." 

1 '  Fire !  ' '  cries  the  master-gunner,  for  just  then 
the  Ranger  is  reeling  down  to  port,  while  the 
Drake  is  coming  up  to  starboard,  and  he  must  not 
waste  the  opportunity. 

144 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

The  long  nines  roar  cheerfully,  spouting  fire  and 
smoke.  Then  comes  that  crashing  inboard  leap, 
to  be  caught  up  short  by  the  tackle.  Again  the 
sponges ;  again  the  rammers ;  with  the  busy  shot- 
handlers  working  in  between.  And  all  the  while 
the  little  powder  monkeys,  lads  of  eleven  and 
twelve,  go  pattering  to  and  fro,  with  cartridges 
from  the  magazines. 

t  i  Why,  yes,  sir !  "  responds  the  master-gunner, 
now  finding  time  to  reply  to  the  comment  of  Cap 
tain  Paul  Jones;  "  as  you  says,  we're  trying  to 
hull  her,  sir." 

Captain  Paul  Jones  makes  out  three  new  holes 
below  the  Drake 's  planksheer,  the  hopeful  harvest 
of  that  last  broadside. 

"  May  I  ask,"  demands  Captain  Paul  Jones, 
who  as  a  mere  first  effect  of  battle  never  fails  of 
a  rippling  amiability,  ' '  may  I  ask,  Mr.  Starbuck, 
your  design  in  thus  aiming  below  the  water-line  ?  ' 

"  Saving  you  presence,  Captain,  we  designs  to 
sink  the  bitch." 

"  Precisely!  That  is  what  I  surmised!  To  a 
quick  seaman  like  yourself,  Mr.  Starbuck,  a  word 
will  do.  I  don't  want  her  sunk,  d'ye  see!  I  want 

145 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

to  bring  her  into  France  as  an  object-lesson,  and 
show  the  Frenchmen  what  Americans  can  do. 
Under  the  circumstances,  Mr.  Starbuck,  I  shall  be 
obliged  if  you  let  her  hull  alone.  It  will  take  Mr. 
Hitchburn,  our  carpenter,  a  week  as  it  is  '  —this 
comes  off  reproachfully—"  to  stop  the  holes 
you  Ve  already  made.  And  so,  Mr.  Starbuck,  from 
now  on  comb  her  decks  and  cut  her  up  in  the  spars 
as  much  as  ever  you  like ;  but  please  keep  off  her 
hull." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir!  "  says  the  master-gunner,  salut 
ing.  Then:  "  Pass  the  word  that  we're  to  leave 
her  hull  alone.  Cap  'n  has  set  his  heart  on  catching 
her  alive." 

With  that  the  plan  of  attack  finds  reversal,  the 
Ranger  firing  as  she  comes  up  to  port  and  when 
only  a  narrow  streak  of  the  Drake's  starboard 
beam  is  visible  above  the  waves. 

Captain  Paul  Jones  remains  among  the  sailors, 
canvassing  in  a  gratified  way  the  results  of  this 
change.  While  thus  engaged,  port-fire  Anthony 
Jeremiah  grins  up  at  him,  meanwhile  blowing  his 
match  to  keep  it  lighted. 

146 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

"  You  enjoy  yourself,  I  see,  Jerry/7  remarks 
Captain  Paul  Jones,  who,  as  observed,  is  never  so 
affable  as  when  guns  are  crashing,  blood  is  flow 
ing,  and  splinters  flying. 

"  Me  like  to  hear  the  big  guns  talk,  Captain," 
responds  the  Indian.  "  It  gives  Jerry  a  good 
heart." 

Captain  Paul  Jones  again  swings  his  glass  on 
the  Drake.  He  is  just  in  time  to  see  her  fore  and 
main  topsail-yards  come  down  onto  the  caps  by  the 
run.  The  last  broadside  does  that.  In  an  instant, 
he  is  running  aft. 

1 '  Down  with  your  helm,  Mr.  Sargent !  '  he 
roars.  "  Pull  her  down  for  every  ounce  that's  in 
you,  man!  ' 

Quartermaster  Sargent,  thus  encouraged,  climbs 
the  wheel  like  a  squirrel;  the  Ranger's  topsails 
shiver ;  then,  yielding  to  her  helm,  she  slowly  luffs 
across  the  helpless  stern  of  the  Drake. 

"  Aboard  with  those  sta 'board  tacks!  "  shouts 
Captain  Paul  Jones.  Then,  turning  again  to  the 
wheelman:  "  Steady,  Mr.  Sargent;  keep  her 
full!  " 

147 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 


There  is  a  skurry  across  the  Ranger's  decks,  as 
the  men  rush  from  the  port  to  the  starboard  bat 
tery. 

"  Stand  by,  Mr.  Starbuck,"  calls  out  Captain 
Paul  Jones,  "  to  rake  her  as  we  cross  her  stern. " 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir!  '  returns  the  master-gunner. 
11  She  shall  have  it  for'ard  and  aft,  as  my  old 
gran 'am  shells  peas  cods!  " 

"  Steady,  Mr.  Sargent!  "  and  again  Captain 
Paul  Jones  cautions  the  alert  wheelman.  "  Keep 
her  as  she  is !  " 

The  guns  are  swung,  and  depressed  so  as  to 
tear  the  poor  Drake  open  from  stern-post  to  cut 
water  at  one  discharge.  The  Ranger  gathers  head ; 
slowly  she  makes  ready  to  cross  her  enemy's  stern 
so  close  that  one  might  chuck  a  biscuit  aboard. 
It  is  a  moment  fraught  of  life  and  death  for  the 
unhappy  Drake. 

With  her  captain  and  first  officer  already  dead, 
the  situation  proves  beyond  the  second  officer,  on 
whom  the  responsibility  of  fighting  or  surrender 
ing  the  ship  devolves.  His  sullen  British  soul 
gives  way;  and  he  strikes  his  colors  just  in  time 

148 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

to  avoid  that  raking  fire  which  would  else  have 
snuffed  him  off  the  face  of  the  sea. 

i  i  Out-fought,  out-mano3uvred,  and  out-sailed !  ' ' 
exclaims  Captain  Paul  Jones. 

Lieutenant  Hall,  flushed  of  combat,  comes  up. 

' i  We  have  beaten  them,  Captain !  ' '  exults  Lieu 
tenant  Hall. 

"  We've  done  more  than  that,  Mr.  Hall,"  re 
sponds  Captain  Paul  Jones.  ' '  We  have  defeated 
an  aphorism,  and  made  a  precedent.  For  the  first 
time  in  the  history  of  the  sea,  a  lighter  ship,  with 
a  smaller  crew  and  a  weaker  battery,  has  whipped 
an  Englishman. ' ' 


149 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    DUCHESS    OF    CHAKTKES 

It  is  a  notable  gathering  that  assembles  at  Doc 
tor  Franklin's  house  in  Passy.  Mr.  Adams  and 
his  wife  have  just  arrived,  and  the  doctor  presents 
them  to  Madame  Brillon  and  Madame  Houdetot, 
already  there. 

"  Mr.  Adams  is  but  recently  come  from  Amer 
ica/'  the  doctor  whispers.  "  He  takes  Mr.  Dean's 
place  as  a  member  of  our  commission. ' ' 

Madame  Houdetot  talks  with  Mrs.  Adams ;  and 
because  of  her  bad  English  and  the  other's  bad 
French  they  get  on  badly. 

' '  Mr.  Lee  sends  his  compliments, ' '  observes  Mr. 
Adams,  loftily,  to  Doctor  Franklin,  "  and  regrets 
that  he  cannot  come.  He  heard,  I  understand, 
that  Captain  Paul  Jones  is  to  be  here,  and  does 
not  care  to  meet  him."  * 

"  No?  "  responds  the  doctor,  evincing  scanty 
150 


The     Story     of     Paul    Jones 

concern  at  the  failure  of  Mr.  Lee  to  come.  1 1  Now 
I  do  not  wonder!  I  hear  that  Captain  Jones 
thrashed  Mr.  Lee's  secretary  in  a  tavern  at  Nan 
tes,  and  our  proud  Mr.  Lee,  I  suppose,  resents  it." 

"  Thrashed  him !  "  exclaims  Mr.  Adams,  in  high 
tones;  "  Captain  Jones  seized  a  stick  and  beat  him 
like  a  dog,  applying  to  him  the  while  such  epithets 
as  '  liar !  '  and  '  spy.'  Mr.  Lee's  secretary  has  left 
France  through  fear  of  him. ' ' 

The  portly  doctor  lifts  his  hands  at  this;  but 
underneath  his  deprecatory  horror,  hides  a  com 
placency,  a  satisfaction,  as  though  the  violence  of 
Captain  Jones  will  not  leave  him  utterly  unstrung. 

"  He  fights  everybody,"  says  the  good  doctor, 
resignedly;  "  on  land  as  well  as  on  sea.  Nor  can 
I  teach  him  the  difference  between  his  own  per 
sonal  enemies,  and  the  enemies  of  his  country. ' ' 

"  He  seems  a  bit  unruly,"  observes  the  pom 
pous  Mr.  Adams ;  "  a  bit  unruly,  does  this  Captain 
Jones  of  yours.  I'm  told  he  sold  the  Drake,  and 
what  other  ships  were  captured  on  his  recent 
cruise,  in  the  most  high-handed,  masterful  way." 

' '  What  else  was  he  to  do  I  When  a  road  be- 
151 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

comes  impassable,  what  is  your  course?  You  push 
down  a  panel  of  fence  and  go  cross-lots.  Captain 
Jones  had  two  hundred  prisoners  to  feed,  besides 
his  own  brave  crew  of  one  hundred  and  eighteen. 
We  had  no  money  to  give  him.  Were  they  to 
starve  f  I  'm  not  surprised  that  he  sold  the  ships. ' ' 
"I'm  surprised  that  the  Frenchmen  bought 
them,"  returns  Mr.  Adams.  "  Captain  Jones 
could  give  no  title. ' ' 

Doctor  Franklin's  keen  eyes  twinkle. 
t  He  could  give  possession,  Mr.  Adams.    And 
let  me  tell  you  that  in  France,  as  everywhere  else, 
possession  is  nine  parts  of  the  law." 

Madame  Brillon  draws  Mr.  Adams  aside,  while 
Doctor  Franklin  welcomes  the  beautiful  royal  girl 
—the  Duchess  de  Chartres;  to  whom  he  later 
presents  Mr.  Adams  and  Mrs.  Adams.  Madame 
Houdetot  leaves  Mrs.  Adams  with  the  girl-Duchess 
and  talks  aside  with  Doctor  Franklin. 

"  I  did  not  know,"  she  whispers,  with  an  eye 
on  the  girlish  Duchess,  "  that  you  received  calls 
from  royalty. ' ' 

*'  The  Duchess  de  Chartres  has  been  with  her 
152 


The     Story    of    Paul    Jones 

great  relative,  the  king,  upon  the  business  of  Cap 
tain  Jones.  She  comes  to  meet  the  captain,  whom 
we  every  moment  expect. ' ' 

' i  She  is  in  love  with  him ! — madly  in  love  with 
him!  "  says  Madame  Houdetot.  "  All  the  world 
knows  it." 

The  doctor,  who  at  seventy-two  is  a  distin 
guished  gallant,  smiles  sympathetically. 

"  Did  I  not  once  tell  you  that  Captain  Jones, 
the  invincible  among  men,  is  the  irresistible  among 
women?  ' 

"  Something  of  the  sort,  I  think.  But  you  have 
heard  of  the  duchess  and  your  irresistible,  in 
vincible  one,  had  you  not!  ' 

"  My  dear  madam,  I  am  a  diplomat,"  replies 
the  doctor,  slyly.  ' '  And  it  is  an  infraction  of  the 
laws  of  diplomacy  to  tell  what  you  hear." 

"  They  have  been  very  tender  at  the  duchess's 
summer  house  near  Brest." 

"  And  the  husband— the  Duke  de  Chartres?  " 

"  A  most  excellent  gentleman!  A  most  admir 
able  husband  of  most  unimpeachable  domestic 
manners!  Believe  me,  I  cannot  laud  him  too 

153 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

highly!  Every  husband  in  France  should  copy 
him!  He  honors  his  wife,  and — stays  aboard  his 
ship,  the  Saint  Esprit."  After  a  pause  the  gos 
sipy  Madame  Houdetot  continues :  "  No  doubt  the 
duke  considers  his  wife 's  rank.  Is  the  great-grand 
daughter  of  the  Grande  Louis  to  be  held  within 
those  narrow  lines  that  confine  the  feet  of  other 
women!  ' 

"  Who  is  this  Mr.  Adams?  "  asks  Madame  Bril- 
lon,  coming  up.  "  Is  he  a  great  man?  ' 

Doctor  Franklin  glances  across  where  the  aus 
tere  Mr.  Adams  is  stiffly  posing,  with  a  final 
thought  of  impressing  the  sparkling  Duchess  de 
Chartres. 

"  Bather  he  is  a  big  man,"  replies  the  philos 
opher.  *  *  Like  some  houses,  his  foundations  cover 
a  deal  of  ground;  but  then  he  is  only  one  story 
high.  If  you  could  raise  Mr.  Adams  another  story, 
he  would  be  a  great  man. ' ' 

The  good  doctor  goes  over,  and  becomes  polite 
to  Mrs.  Adams ;  for  the  enlightenment  of  that  lady 
of  reserve  and  dignity,  he  expands  on  France  and 
the  French  character.  Suddenly  the  door  is 

154 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

thrown  open,  and  all  unannounced  a  queer  figure 
rushes  in.  She  is  clad  in  rumpled  muslin  and 
soiled  lutestring.  Her  hair  is  frizzed,  her  face 
painted,  her  cap  awry,  and  she  is  fair  and  fat  and 
of  middle  years.  This  remarkable  apparition  em 
braces  Doctor  Franklin,  kisses  him  resoundingly, 
first  on  the  left  cheek  then  on  the  right,  crying: 

"  My  flame ! — my  love ! — my  Franklin !  ' 

The  seasoned  doctor  receives  this  caressing 
broadside  steadily,  while  the  desolated  Mrs. 
Adams  sits  round-eyed  and  stony. 

"It  is  the  eccentric  Madame  Helvetius,"  ex 
plains  Madame  Brillon  in  a  low  tone  to  Mrs. 
Adams.  "  They  call  her  the  '  Rich  Widow  of 
Passy.'  She  and  the  good  doctor  are  dearest 
friends/' 

"  Eccentric!  "  Mrs.  Adams  perceives  as  much, 
and  says  so. 

Doctor  Franklin  returns  to  Mrs.  Adams,  whom 
he  suspects  of  being  hungry  for  an  explanation, 
while  the  buoyant  Madame  Helvetius,  as  one  sure 
of  her  impregnable  position,  wanders  confidently 
about  the  room. 

155 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  You  should  become  acquainted  with  Madame 
Helvetius, ' '  submits  the  doctor  pleasantly.  '  *  Wise, 
generous,  afire  for  our  cause — you  would  dote  on 
her." 

Mrs.  Adams  icily  fears  not. 

"  Believe  me;  you  would!  "  insists  the  doctor. 
"  True!  her  manners  are  of  her  people  and  her 
region.  They  are  not  those  of  Puritan  New  Eng 
land." 

Mrs.  Adams  interrupts  to  say  that  she  has  never 
before  heard  so  much  said  in  favor  of  Puritan 
New  England. 

"  And  yet,  my  dear  Mrs.  Adams,"  goes  on  the 
good  doctor,  as  one  determined  to  conquer  for 
Madame  Helvetius  the  other's  favorable  opinion, 
"  you  would  do  wrong  to  apply  a  New  England 
judgment  to  our  friend.  Her  exuberance  is  of  the 
surface."  Then,  quizzically:  "  A  mere  manner,  I 
assure  you,  and  counts  for  no  more  than  should 
what  she  is  doing  now. ' ' 

Mrs.  Adams  lifts  her  severe  gaze  at  this  to 
Madame  Helvetius.  That  amiable  French  woman 
is  in  rapt  and  closest  converse  with  Mr.  Adams, 

156 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

hand  on  his  shoulder,  her  widowed  lips  to  his  ear. 
Mr.  Adams  is  standing  as  one  frozen,  casting  ever 
and  anon  a  furtive  glance,  like  an  alarmed  sheep, 
at  Mrs.  Adams.  For  an  arctic  moment,  Mrs. 
Adams  is  held  by  the  terrors  of  that  spectacle; 
then  she  moves  to  her  husband's  rescue. 

Madame  Helvetius  comes  presently  to  Doctor 
Franklin. 

"  What  an  iceberg!  "  she  remarks,  with  a  toss 
of  the  frizzed  head  towards  Mr.  Adams.  "  Does 
he  ever  thaw!  '  Then,  as  her  glance  takes  in  Mrs. 
Adams :  l  i  Poor  man !  He  might  be  August,  miss 
ing  her.  It  is  she  who  congeals  him." 

And  now  he,  for  whom  they  wait,  is  announced 
—Captain  Paul  Jones.  He  has  about  him  every 
thing  of  the  salon  and  nothing  of  the  sea.  His 
amiable  yet  polished  good  breeding  wins  on  Mrs. 
Adams,  and  even  the  repellant  wintry  Mr.  Adams 
is  rendered  urbane.  Captain  Paul  Jones  becomes 
the  instant  centre  of  the  little  assemblage.  And 
yet,  even  while  he  gives  his  words  to  the  others, 
his  glances  rove  softly  to  the  girl-Duchess,  who 
stands  apart,  as  might  one  who  for  a  space — only 

157 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

for  a  space — permits  room  to  others.  The  girl- 
Duchess  is  polite ;  she  grants  him  what  time  is  re 
quired  to  offer  his  greetings  all  around.  Then,  in 
the  most  open,  obvious  way,  as  though  none  might 
criticise  or  gainsay  her  conduct,  she  draws  him 
into  a  secluded  corner.  They  make  a  rare  study, 
these  two ;  he  deferential  yet  dominant,  she  proud 
but  yielding. 

"  Did  you  see  the  king!  "  he  asks. 

"  See  him!  Am  I  not,  too,  a  Bourbon?  "  This 
comes  off  with  fire. 

'  Surely!  Of  course  you  saw  him!  "  responds 
Captain  Paul  Jones,  recalling  his  manner  to  one 
of  easy  matter-of-fact.  "  Your  royal  highness 
will  pardon  my  inquiry. ' ' 

The  girl-Duchess  objects  petulantly  to  the 
11  Eoyal  Highness." 

1  i  From  you  I  do  not  like  it, ' '  she  says.  ' '  From 
you  '  —and  here  comes  a  flood  of  softness,  while 
her  black  eyes  shine  like  strange  jewels — "  from 
you,  as  you  know,  my  friend,  I  would  have  only 
those  titles  that,  arm-encircled,  heart  to  heart,  a 
man  gives  to  the  one  woman  of  his  soul 's  hope. ' ' 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Her  voice  sinks  at  the  close,  while  her  eyes 
leave  his  for  the  floor.  His  presence  is  like  a  gale, 
and  she  bends  before  him  as  the  willow  bends  be 
fore  the  strong  wind.  Meanwhile,  as  instructive 
to  Mr.  Adams,  the  loud  Doctor  is  saying: 

"  No,  sir;  you  must  have  a  wig.  No  one  sees 
the  king  without  a  wig." 

"  We  talked  an  hour— the  king  and  I,"  goes  on 
the  girl-Duchess,  recovering  herself.  ' '  I  read  him 
your  letter :  he  was  vastly  interested.  Then  I  told 
him  how  the  Ranger  had  been  called  to  America. 
Also  I  drew  him  pictures  of  what  you  had  done; 
and  how  bravely  you  had  fought,  not  only  your 
enemies,  but  his  enemies  and  the  enemies  of 
France.  And,  oh!  "—here  again  the  black  eyes 
take  on  that  perilous  softness—"  I  can  be  eloquent 
when  I  talk  of  you !  ' 

Captain  Paul  Jones  looks  tender  things,  as 
though  he  also  might  be  eloquent,  let  him  but  pick 
subject  and  audience.  Altogether  there  is  much 
to  support  the  gossip-loving  Madame  Houdetot, 
in  what  she  has  said  concerning  that  summer 
house  at  Brest.  The  voice  of  the  good  Doctor 
again  takes  precedence. 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

' '  Until  then,  it  had  been  an  axiom  of  naval  Eu 
rope  that  no  one  on  even  terms,  guns  and  men  and 
ship,  could  whip  the  British  on  the  ocean. " 

The  Doctor  and  Mr.  Adams  are  discussing  the 
Ranger  and  the  Drake,  a  topic  that  has  been  rock 
ing  France. 

' '  Yes, ' '  goes  on  the  girl-Duchess,  with  a  further 
dulcet  flash  of  those  eyes,  fed  of  fire  and  romance, 
11  you  are  to  have  a  ship.  Here  is  the  king's 
order  to  his  Minister  of  Marine — the  shuffler  De 
Sartine.  Now  there  shall  be  no  more  shuffling." 
She  gives  Captain  Paul  Jones  the  orders.  "  The 
ship  is  the  Duras,  lying  at  1 'Orient." 

"  The  Duras!  "  exclaims  Captain  Paul  Jones. 
6  i  An  ex-Indiaman ! — a  good  ship,  too ;  she  mounts 
forty  guns."  Then,  as  his  gaze  rests  on  Doctor 
Frafiiklin,  laying  down  diplomatic  law  and  fact  to 
Mr.  Adams,  who  listens  with  a  preposterously  con 
ceited  cock  to  his  head : ' i  What  say  you,  my  friend 
— my  best,  my  dearest  friend!  Let  us  re-name 
the  Duras  for  the  good  Doctor.  Shall  we  not  call 
it  the  Bon  Homme  Richard?  ' 

The  girl-Duchess  looks  her  acquiescence  as  she 
1GO 


The  Story  of  Paul  'Jones 

would  have  looked  it  to  any  proposal  from  so  near 
and  sweet  and  dear  a  quarter.  Thus  the  Bon 
Homme  Richard  is  born,  and  the  Bur  as  disap 
pears.  The  Doctor,  unconscious  of  the  honor  done 
him,  is  saying  to  Madame  Helvetius,  whose  fat 
arm  is  thrown  across  his  philosophic  shoulder: 

"  With  pleasure,  madam!  It  is  arranged;  I 
shall  dine  at  your  house  to-morrow. ' ' 

The  girl-Duchess  and  Captain  Paul  Jones  hear 
nothing  of  these  prandial  arrangements  for  the 
morrow.  They  are  again  conversing ;  and,  for  all 
they  talk  constantly,  they  say  more  with  their  eyes 
than  with  their  lips. 

"  Lastly,'7  and  here  the  words  of  the  girl- 
Duchess  grow  distinct,  "  your  ship,  they  tell  me, 
will  need  refitting.  That  will  take  money,  my 
friend ;  and  so  I  hand  you  this  letter  to  my  banker, 
Gourlade,  instructing  him  to  put  ten  thousand 
louis  to  your  credit. ' ' 

Captain  Paul  Jones  puts  the  letter  of  credit 
aside. 

"You  do  not  understand!"  he  says.  "  De 
Chaumont  has— 

161 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 


t  i 


You  must  take  it!  '  interrupts  the  girl- 
Duchess,  her  eyes  beginning  to  swim.  "  You 
shall  not  put  to  sea,  and  risk  your  life,  and  the 
ship  not  half  prepared!  ' 

"  I  shall  more  easily  risk  my  life  a  thousand 
times,  than  permit  you  to  give  me  money. " 

As  Captain  Paul  Jones  says  this,  a  resentful  red 
is  burning  on  his  brow.  Doctor  Franklin  breaks 
in  from  over  the  way,  with: 

' '  You  should  not  too  much  listen  to  Mr.  Lee,  sir. 
I  tell  you  that  the  French  merchants  have  offered 
to  send  Captain  Jones  to  sea  as  admiral  of  an 
entire  fleet  of  privateers,  and  he  refused.  Have 
my  word,  sir;  the  last  thing  he  thinks  on  is 
money. ' ' 

The  girl-Duchess  is  gazing  reproachfully  at 
Captain  Paul  Jones.  At  last  she  speaks  slowly 
and  with  a  kind  of  sadness : 

"  I  do  not  give  you  money — do  not  offer  it. 
What !  money  and — you  ?  Never ! ' '  Then  proudly : 
' '  I  give  my  money  to  the  Cause. ? '  After  this  high 
note  is  struck,  the  flash  dies  down ;  the  black  eyes 
again  go  wavering  to  the  floor,  while  the  voice 

162 


T  he    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

retreats  to  the  old  soft  whisper.  "  It  is  my  heart 
—only  my  heart  that  I  give  to  you." 

The  strident,  unmol lifted  tones  of  Mr.  Adams 
get  possession  of  the  field.  He  is  condemning  the 
French  press. 

"  They  declare,  sir,"  he  is  saying,  "  that  I  am 
not  the  celebrated  Mr.  Adams ;  that  I  am  a  cipher, 
a  fanatic  and  a  bigot. ' ' 

Doctor  Franklin  laughs.  "  What  harm  is  there 
in  the  French  papers,  sir?  "  he  returns.  "  Give 
them  no  heed,  sir,  give  them  no  heed !  ' 

Madame  Brillon  makes  preparations  to  depart ; 
Madame  Houdetot,  Mrs.  Adams  and  the  rest  adopt 
her  example.  And  still  the  girl-Duchess  holds 
Captain  Paul  Jones  to  herself : 

"  I  am  to  have  one  evening — one  before  you 
go?  "  she  pleads;  and  her  tones  are  a  woman's 
tones  and  deeply  wistful;  and  are  not  in  any  re 
spect  the  tones  of  a  Bourbon. 

"  One  evening?  You  shall  have  every  evening 
— ay!  and  every  day." 

li  Eemember!  "  and  as  she  makes  ready  to  go 
the  girl-Duchess  takes  firmer  command  of  her 

1G3 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

manner  and  her  voice ;  ' i  remember !  You  have 
promised  to  lay  an  English  frigate  at  my  feet." 

' '  That  I  shall  do ;  or  lay  my  bones  away  in  the 
Atlantic!  " 

The  girl-Duchess  shivers  at  this  picture,  and  as 
though  for  reassurance  steals  her  slim  hand  into 
his. 

"  Not  that!  "  she  pleads.  His  strong  brown 
fingers  close  courageously  on  the  slender  ones. 
i  i  I  cannot  bear  the  thought !  In  victory  or  defeat, 
come  back !  ' '  Then,  sighing  rather  than  saying : 
"  Come  back  to  me — my  untitled  knight  of  the 
sea!  " 


164 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    SAILING    OF    THE    "  RICHARD  r 

Captain  Paul  Jones  goes  down  to  1 'Orient  to 
begin  the  overhaul  and  refit  of  the  Richard.  The 
ship  is  twenty  years  old,  and  he  finds  it  shaken 
and  worn  by  time  and  weather.  It  is  not  a  good 
ship,  not  a  ship  on  which  a  prudent  commander 
would  care  to  stake  his  life  and  reputation;  but 
it  is  the  best  he  can  get,  and  Captain  Paul  Jones 
accepts  it,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  He  has  been 
so  beaten  upon  by  disappointments,  so  carked  and 
rusted  by  delays,  since  his  old  ship  Ranger  spread 
its  sails  for  home,  and  left  him  as  it  were  an  exile 
on  French  shores,  that  rather  than  further  endure 
such  heart-eating  experiences  he  is  ready  to  em 
brace  the  desperate.  As  the  work  of  refitting  pro 
gresses,  Doctor  Franklin  comes  over  from  Passy. 

"  The  ship  is  old,  Doctor,"  says  Captain  Paul 
Jones,  as  he  and  Doctor  Franklin  canvass  the  situ- 

165 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

ation.  "  That,  however,  is  the  least  of  my  trou 
bles.  What  causes  me  most  uneasiness  is  the  crew. 
Out  of  a  whole  muster  of  three  hundred  and 
seventy-five,  no  more  than  fifty  are  Americans." 

"  Then  you  do  not  trust  the  French?  Surely 
you  don 't  mean  to  say  they  are  not  brave  men  ?  ' ' 

' '  Brave  enough— the  French ;  but  that  is  not  the 
point.  They  are  not  good  water  fighters.  By  na 
ture  they  are  too  hysterical,  too  easily  excited,  to 
both  sail  and  fight  a  ship.  Those  English  whom 
we  go  to  meet  are  born  water  dogs,  stubborn  and 
cool;  and  the  only  ones  afloat  who,  man  for  man, 
may  match  them  are  Americans." 

"  And  of  Americans  you  have  but  fifty?  " 

1 1  Only  fifty. ' '  Then,  with  a  heartfelt  oath :  "  I 
would  give  my  left  hand  to  have  back  my  old  crew 
of  the  Ranger." 

Captain  Paul  Jones  begins  pacing  to  and  fro, 
his  thoughts  running  regretfully  on  the  Ranger, 
and  those  stout  hearts  with  whom  he  fought  the 
Drake.  But  the  Ranger  and  those  stout,  tarry 
ones  are  half  a  world  away;  and  in  the  end  he 
returns  perforce  to  the  Richard,  and  what  poor 

166 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

tools  in  the  way  of  crew  are  offered  him  by 
Fate.  There  is,  too,  a  matter  of  gravity  which  he 
desires  to  lay  before  the  Doctor's  older  and  more 
prudent  judgment.  For  Captain  Paul  Jones,  so 
unmanageable  by  others,  defers  to  the  sagacious 
Doctor,  and  accepts  his  opinions  and  follows  his 
commands  with  closed  eyes. 

"  This  Captain  Piere  Landais,  Doctor, "  he  be 
gins,  "  who  is  to  sail  the  Alliance  in  my  com 
pany!  ' 

"  Yes?  "  interrupts  the  Doctor. 

"  You  know  him? — you  have  confidence  in 
him?  " 

The  Doctor  purses  his  lips,  but  says  never  a 
word. 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think!  "  cries  Cap 
tain  Paul  Jones,  who  reads  distrust  in  the  good 
Doctor's  pursed  but  silent  lips ;  "  I'll  tell  you  what 
I  think,  and  what  I'll  do.  Already  I've  had  some 
dealings  with  this  Landais.  The  fellow  is  mad— 
vanity-mad.  Jealous,  insubordinate,  he  has  twice 
taken  open  occasion  to  disobey  my  orders.  This  I 
have  stomached  in  silence — being  on  French 

1G7 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

shores.  I  now  warn  you  that  as  soon  as  I  find 
myself  in  blue  water,  at  a  first  sign  of  rebellion 
against  my  authority,  I'll  clap  the  fellow  in  irons. 
By  heaven!  I'll  string  him  to  his  own  yard  arm, 
sir;  make  a  tassel  of  him  for  the  winds  to  play 
with,  if  it  be  required  to  preserve  a  discipline 
which  his  example  has  already  done  much  to  break 
down. ' ' 

Doctor  Franklin  meets  this  violent  setting  forth 
concerning  the  recalcitrant  Landais  with  a  nega 
tive  gesture  of  unmistakable  emphasis. 

"  You  must  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  Paul!  "  he 
replies.  ' '  Captain  Landais,  as  you  say,  is  doubt 
less  mad— vanity-mad.  But  he  is  also  French; 
and  we  must  do  nothing  to  estrange  from  our 
cause  French  sympathy  and  French  assistance.  I 
urge  you  to  bear  with  Landais  in  silence,  rather 
than  jeopardize  us  with  King  Louis." 

Captain  Paul  Jones  growlingly  submits.  "  It 
will  result  disastrously,  Doctor,"  he  says.  "  We 
shall  yet  suffer  for  it,  mark  my  word."  Then, 
disgustedly:  "  I  marvel  that  the  Marine  Commit- 

168 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

tee  in  Philadelphia  should  turn  over  to  such  a 
madman  a  brisk  frigate  like  the  Alliance." 

"  lYour  friend,  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette,  had 
something  to  do  with  it,  I  think.  You  observe  that 
on  his  present  visit  to  France,  it  is  Landais  with 
his  Alliance  who  brings  him." 

Captain  Paul  Jones  says  no  more,  but  seems  to 
accept  Landais  as  he  accepts  the  Richard,  desper 
ately.  His  final  comment  shows  the  uneasy  com 
plexion  of  his  thought. 

"  We  shall  do  the  best  we  can,  Doctor,"  he  says. 
1 '  Young  as  I  am,  I  have  lived  long  enough  to  know 
that  one  can't  have  all  things  ordered  as  he 
would." 

Captain  Paul  Jones,  now  commodore,  clears  for 
the  Irish  coast  on  a  bright,  clear  day  in  June.  Be 
sides  the  Richard,  he  has  with  him  the  Alliance, 
thirty-two  guns,  Captain  Landais;  the  Pallas, 
twenty-eight  guns,  Captain  Cottineau;  and  the 
Vengeance,  twelve  guns,  Captain  Eicon.  Four 
days  later  he  returns  limping  into  1'Orient  for  re 
pairs,  the  Richard  having  been  fouled  by  the  Alli- 

169 


The    Story    ofPaul    Jones 

ance  through  the  criminal  carelessness  or  worse  of 
Captain  Landais. 

The  breast  of  the  young  commodore  is  on  fire 
with  anger  over  the  delay,  and  the  vicious  clum 
siness  that  caused  it.    He  burns  to  destroy  Lan 
dais,  as  the  mean  reason  of  his  troubles,  but  the 
thought  of  Doctor  Franklin  restrains  him.    Also, 
as  events  unfold,  that  enforced  return  to  1 'Orient 
proves    of    good    fortune,    and    he    forgets    his 
chagrin    in    joy    over    the    flattering    new    turn 
in  his  affairs.     Doctor  Franklin  has   succeeded 
in    bringing    about    an    exchange    of    prisoners, 
and  barters  to  the  British  admiralty  one  hun 
dred  and  nineteen  Englishmen,  captured  in  the 
Drake  and   other  prizes   taken   by  the  Ranger, 
for  one  hundred  and  nineteen  Americans  held 
by  King  George.    While  Commodore  Paul  Jones 
is  curing  the  damage  done  the  Richard  by  the 
evil   Landais,    thos'e    exchanged    Americans    are 
landed    under    a    cartel    in    Nantes.      He    goes 
down  to  Nantes  and  enlists  one  hundred  and  fif 
teen  of  them  for  the  Richard. 
Before  Commodore  Paul  Jones  weighs  anchor 
170 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

for  a  second  start,  he  goes  over  to  Passy  for  a 
final  word  with  Doctor  Franklin.  The  pair  walk 
in  the  Doctor's  favorite  garden,  now  a  wilderness 
of  foliage  and  flowers,  the  Doctor  serene,  the  boy 
commodore  cloudy,  taciturn  and  grim.  His  reso 
lution  has  set  iron-hard  to  do  or  die;  the  cruise 
shall  be  a  glorious  one  or  be  his  last.  Doctor 
Franklin  asks  about  his  plans. 

"  I  shall  make  for  the  west  coast  of  Ireland," 
says  he,  * '  and  go  north  about  the  British  islands. 
Wind  and  weather  favoring,  I  may  sack  a  town  or 
two  by  way  of  retaliation  for  what  the  foe  has  done 
to  us.  They  will  find  that  I  have  not  forgotten 
Lord  Dunmore,  and  my  ruined  plantation  by  the 
Rappahannock. ' ' 

"  The  waters  you  will  sail  in  are  alive  with 
British  ships  of  war.  With  your  poor  force  it 
seems  a  desperate  cruise.7' 

66  Desperate,  yes;  but,  Doctor,  we  are  in  no 
shape  to  play  cautious.  We  are  weak;  therefore 
we  must  be  reckless." 

"  It  is  a  strange  doctrine,"  muses  the  Doctor. 
"  And  yet  I  will  not  say  but  what  it  smells  of 

171 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

judgment.  I  have  faith  in  you,  Paul;  it  teaches 
me  to  hope  that,  when  next  I  greet  you,  I  shall 
greet  a  victor." 

i  i  Doctor, ' '  returns  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  and 
his  tones  are  grave  with  meaning,  "  I  shall  not 
disappoint  you.  Nor  do  I  care  to  conceal  from  you 
my  resolution.  When  I  sail,  I  sail  looking  for  bat 
tle;  and  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  engage  an  enemy 
superior  to  my  force.  The  condition  of  our  cause 
is  such  that,  to  sustain  it,  we  need  a  striking,  ay ! 
a  startling  naval  success,  and  I  shall  do  all  I  know, 
fight  all  I  know,  to  bring  it  to  pass.  More;  my 
mind  is  made  up:  If  I  fail,  I  fall;  I  shall  return 
victorious  or  I  shall  not  return." 

It  is  daybreak  on  a  day  in  middle  August  when 
Commodore  Paul  Jones,  with  the  Richard  as  flag 
ship  of  the  little  squadron  of  four,  puts  the  Isle 
of  Groaix  astern,  and  points  for  the  open  ocean. 
His  course  is  west  by  north,  so  as  to  weather  Cape 
Clear,  and  fetch  the  Irish  coast  close  aboard. 
With  winds  light  and  baffling,  the  squadron's  pace 
is  slow;  it  is  nine  days  out  of  France  before  Cape 
Clear  is  sighted.  Then  it  creeps  northward  along 

173 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 


the  Irish  coast,  Commodore  Paul  Jones  vigilant 
and  alert.  He  takes  a  prize  or  two,  and  one  after 
the  other  sends  into  French  ports  the  British  ships 
Mayflower  and  Fortune.  The  young  commodore's 
brow  begins  to  clear;  those  prizes  comfort  him 
vastly.  At  least  the  cruise  shall  not  be  registered 
as  altogether  fruitless. 

It  is  the  last  day  of  August ;  the  Hebrides  lie  off 
the  Richard's  starboard  beam.  A  stiff  gale  from 
the  northwest  sets  in,  and  the  squadron  is  driven 
east  by  north  under  storm  staysails.  This  dove 
tails  with  the  desires  of  Commodore  Paul  Jones; 
wherefore  he  welcomes  the  gale  as  friendly 
weather.  Also,  it  gives  him  a  chance  to  try  out 
the  Richard,  which  shows  lively  with  the  wind 
abaft  the  beam,  but  dull  to  the  confines  of  despair 
when  sailing  on  a  wind.  Close-hauled,  the  Richard 
makes  more  lee  than  headway. 

"  "Which  means,  Dick,"  says  Commodore  Paul 
Jones  judgmatically,  to  Lieutenant  Richard  Dale— 
"  which  means,  Dick,  that  we  must  have  the 
weather-gage  before  we  lock  horns  with  an  en 


emy." 


173 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Off  Cape  Wraith,  Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  so 
fortunate  as  to  take  two  further  prizes.  He  turns 
them  over  to  Captain  Landais,  with  orders  to  send 
them  into  Brest.  The  Frenchman,  who  only  re 
ceives  an  order  for  the  purpose  of  breaking  it, 
sends  them  into  the  port  of  Bergen,  where 
the  Norwegians  promptly  turn  them  over  to 
the  English,  on  an  argument  that  they  do  not  offi 
cially  know  of  any  government  called  the  United 
States. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  works  slowly  and  cau 
tiously  southward  along  the  east  coast  of  Scotland. 
Off  the  Firth  of  Forth  he  decides  to  attack  the 
Port  of  Leith,  and  stands  in  for  that  fell  purpose. 
An  adverse  gale,  seconded  by  off-shore  currents, 
comes  to  the  rescue  of  the  threatened  Scotchmen ; 
in  the  teeth  of  his  best  seamanship  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  and  his  squadron  are  driven  out  to  sea. 
Thus  the  chance  passes,  and  the  sack  of  Leith  is 
abandoned.  It  is  a  sore  setback  to  the  hopes  of 
Commodore  Paul  Jones;  but  it  lifts  a  load  from 
the  Scottish  heart,  to  whom  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
have  brought  visions  of  pillage  and  torch  and  deso- 

174 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

lation.  The  news  flies  over  England ;  beacons  burn 
on  each  headland;  while  every  semaphore  is  tell 
ing  that  the  dreaded  Paul  Jones  is  hawking  at  the 
English  coasts.  The  word  causes  a  tremendous 
loss  of  British  sleep. 

Off  Spurn  Head  our  industrious  young  commo 
dore  sinks  one  collier  and  chases  another  ashore. 
Being  full  of  curiosity,  he  takes  a  peep  into  the 
mouth  of  the  Humber,  and  discovers  a  frightened 
fleet  of  British  merchant  vessels.  The  merchant 
men  are  in  a  flutter  at  the  sight  of  the  Richard's 
dread  topsails ;  the  frigate  that  it  conveying  them 
has  its  work  cut  out,  to  nurse  them  into  anything 
like  calmness. 

Following  the  look  into  the  Humber,  that  sets  so 
many  timid  merchantmen  to  shivering,  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones  puts  out  to  sea  under  double- 
reefs.  He  plans  to  stand  off  and  on  throughout 
the  night,  and  swoop  on  those  tremblers,  like  a 
hawk  on  a  covey  of  quail,  with  the  first  gray 
streaks  of  dawn.  The  frigate  will  doubtless  fight, 
but  the  optimistic  young  commodore  reckons  on 
making  short  work  of  that  man-of-war.  In  the 

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The     Story    of    Paul    Jones 

middle  watch  the  little  brig  Vengeance  runs  under 
the  Richard's  lee,  bringing  word  of  a  nobler 
quarry.  The  Baltic  timber  fleet,  fifty  sail  in  all, 
convoyed  by  the  Sera/pis  and  the  Countess  of  Scar- 
boro',  has  just  put  into  Bridlington  Bay. 

At  this  good  news,  Commodore  Paul  Jones  gives 
up  his  designs  touching  the  frightened  covey  of 
merchantmen  in  the  Humber.  He  prefers  the  Bal 
tic  timber  ships  with  the  Serapis,  the  difference 
between  the  one  and  the  other  being  the  difference 
between  deer  and  hare.  He  orders  the  Vengeance 
to  stand  out  to  sea,  find  the  Alliance,  and  tell  Cap 
tain  Landais  to  join  him  off  Scarboro'  Head. 

"  But  do  not,"  says  he  to  Captain  Eicon,  "  give 
Captain  Landais  this  notice  in  the  guise  of  an 
order.  He  would  make  a  point  of  disobeying,  and 
seize  on  its  reception  as  a  pat  occasion  for  insult 
ing  you. ' ' 

While  the  Vengeance  stands  eastward  in  search 
of  the  Alliance,  Commodore  Paul  Jones  signals  the 
Pallas  to  follow,  and  turns  his  bows  for  Scarboro' 
Head,  then  forty  miles  away. 

The  Richard,  the  little  Pallas  close  to  its  heels, 
176 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

cracks  on  canvas  throughout  the  night.  The  winds 
are  mere  puffs  and  catspaws ;  still,  slow  as  is  their 
speed,  daylight  finds  them  within  throwing  dis 
tance  of  their  destination.  They  are  the  wrong 
side  of  the  weather,  however,  and  the  whole  day 
is  wasted  in  beating  inshore  against  the  wind.  Our 
young  commodore  must  do  all  the  work;  for  the 
English  merchantmen,  as  though  faint  with  fear 
at  the  sight  of  him,  refuse  to  come  out;  while  the 
Serapis  and  its  consort  stick  close  to  them  in  their 
role  of  guardships.  The  sun  goes  down,  night  de 
scends,  and  as  yet  our  young  commodore  has  not 
been  able  to  get  within  reach  of  the  foe;  for  at 
beating  to  windward  the  Richard  is  as  dull  as  a 
Dutchman. 

When  darkness  comes,  it  unlooses  a  land  breeze. 
With  that  the  merchantmen  take  heart  of  grace, 
and  resolve  to  dare  all  and  run  for  it.  They  rush 
out  of  Bridlington  Bay,  wind  free,  like  a  flock  of 
seagulls.  What  is  a  fair  wind  for  them  is  a  head 
wind  for  the  Richard  and  Pallas;  with  no  one  to 
molest  them,  the  fifty  timber  ships  show  a  clean 
pair  of  heels.  Commodore  Paul  Jones  makes  no 

177 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

effort  to  chase;  it  would  be  seamanship  thrown 
away.  Besides,  the  Serapis  has  laid  its  sails 
aback,  and  is  waiting  to  hear  from  him ;  while  the 
Countess  of  Scarboro',  guarding  the  flanks  of  the 
fugitive  timber  ships,  seems  eagerly  willing  to  try 
conclusions  with  the  Pallas. 

The  temptation  is  too  great;  Commodore  Paul 
Jones  makes  no  least  effort  to  resist  it.  Signal 
ing  the  Pallas  to  close  with  and  pull  down  the 
smaller  ship,  with  his  own  eye  on  the  Serapis,  he 
begins  manoeuvring  for  the  upper  hand.  The  sea 
is  as  smooth  as  glass ;  a  great  harvest  moon  shoots 
up  in  the  cloudless  sky.  As  when  the  Ranger 
fought  the  Drake,  it  is  to  be  a  fight  by  the  light  of 
the  moon. 

The  Richard  tacks  starboard  and  port,  the 
Serapis  lying  in  wait.  Decks  cleared,  guns  shotted 
and  run  out,  magazines  open,  men  stripped  and  at 
their  quarters,  both  ships  are  as  ferociously  ready 
as  bulldogs.  Commodore  Paul  Jones  scans  the 
Serapis  through  his  glass. 

' '  How  heavy  is  he,  Commodore !  ' 

It  is  Dr.  Brooke,  surgeon  of  the  Richard,  who 
178 


The     Story     of     Paul     Jones 


puts  the  question.  He  has  been  laying  out  his  in 
struments  and  bandages  in  the  cockpit,  in  readi 
ness  for  a  hard  night's  work,  and  now  pokes  his 
nose  on  deck  for  a  last  breath  of  fresh  air. 

16  Is  that  you,  Doctor!  "  returns  Commodore 
Paul  Jones.  The  amiable  tones  bespeak  that  bland 
urbanity  which  is  his  dominant  characteristic  on 
the  threshold  of  battle.  "  It's  the  Serapis;  a 
forty- four-gun  ship  of  the  Rainbow  class,  six 
months  off  the  stocks." 

It  should  be  observed  that  Commodore  Paul 
Jones '  pet  study  is  the  British  navy,  and  he  knows 
more  about  it — ships,  guns,  and  men — than  does 
the  king's  admiralty  itself. 

t '  Forty-four  guns !  Rainbow  class !  ' ' .  repeats 
the  worthy  doctor,  who  himself  is  not  without  a 
working  knowledge  of  ships  and  their  comparative 
strengths.  "  Then  she's  a  stronger  ship,  with 
heavier  metal,  than  the  Richard?  ' 

"  As  three  is  to  two,  Doctor,"  replies  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones,  shutting  up  his  glass  and  pre 
paring  for  action.  ' '  None  the  less,  we  shall  fight 
them  and  beat  them  just  the  same. ' ' 

179 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Aboard  the  Serapis,  Captain  Pearson  is  holding 
his  glass  on  the  Richard,  not  a  cable's  length  away. 
Suddenly  the  Richard  wears  and  backs  its  topsail, 
thereby  bringing  its  broadside  to  bear  upon  the 
Serapis. 

i  i  That  was  a  clever  manoeuvre ! ' '  remarks  Cap 
tain  Pearson,  admiringly,  to  Lieutenant  Wright, 
who  stands  by  his  side.  "  It  holds  for  him  the 
weather-gage,  and  makes  it  impossible  for  me  to 
luff  across  his  hawse,  without  exposing  my  ship 
to  be  raked. " 

"  Who  is  he!  "  asks  Lieutenant  Wright;  for  the 
Serapis  is  just  home  from  Norway,  and  the  word 
that  set  all  England  to  lighting  beacons  and  dou 
bling  coast-guards  has  not  reached  it. 

"  Who  is  he?  "  repeats  Captain  Pearson,  sober 
ly.  "He  is  Paul  Jones ;  and,  my  word  for  it, 
Lieutenant,  there  is  work  ahead. ' ' 


180 


CHAPTER    XV 


THE    "  ETCHAED  "    AND    THE    "  SEEAPIS  ''' 


The  ships  are  slowly  closing,  watchful  as  wres 
tlers  striving  for  holds,  the  Richard  edging  down 
with  the  wind,  the  Serapis  holding  on. 

"  What  ship  is  that?  "  hails  Captain  Pearson. 

There  is  no  reply. 

"  What  ship  is  that!  "  comes  the  second  hail. 

The  response  is  a  storm  of  solid  shot  from  the 
Richard's  flaming  broadside. 

As  the  Richard  goes  into  action,  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  swings  his  glass  along  the  eastern 
horizon.  The  Pallas  is  going  down  the  wind,  in 
hot  pursuit  of  the  Countess  of  Scarboro',  yawing 
and  firing  its  bow-chaser  as  it  runs ;  while  far  out 
to  sea  lies  the  traitor  Landais,  sulking  or  skulk 
ing,  it  matters  little  which,  his  coward  topsails 
just  visible  against  the  moonlit  sky-line. 

With  the  wind  aft,  the  Richard  and  the  Serapis 
181 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

head  northwest,  both  on  the  port  tack.  The  moon 
makes  the  scene  as  light  as  day;  the  sea  is  as 
evenly  smooth  as  a  ballroom  floor.  The  Richard 
goes  over  on  the  starboard  tack,  the  Serapis  hold 
ing  as  she  is ;  the  ships  approach  each  other,  the 
Richard  keeping  the  weather-gage.  For  twenty 
minutes  it  is  broadside  and  broadside  as  fast  as 
men  may  handle  sponge  and  rammer.  As  in  the 
hour  of  the  Drake  and  Ranger,  the  Yankees  show 
smarter  with  their  guns. 

When  the  battle  begins,  the  Richard  has  to  its 
broadside  three  eighteen-pounders,  as  against  the 
Serapis'  ten.  With  the  first  fire,  two  of  the  Rich 
ard's  three  explode,  killing  half  the  men  that  serve 
them,  and  tearing  open  the  main  gun-deck  imme 
diately  above.  Lieutenant  Mayrant,  who  has  com 
mand  in  the  gunroom  where  the  three  eighteens 
are  mounted,  reports  the  disaster  to  Commodore 
Paul  Jones.  The  latter  receives  the  news  beam 
ingly,  as  though  it  were  the  enemies'  eighteen- 
pounders,  and  not  his  own,  that  have  been  put  out 
of  action. 

"  Then  we  have  only  the  twelve-pounders  and 
182 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

the  long  nines  to  fight  him  with,"  says  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones.  "  It  is  now  a  thirty-two-gun  ship 
against  a  forty-four.  We  shall  beat  him;  and  the 
honor  will  be  the  greater.'7  Then,  observing 
Lieutenant  Mayrant  to  be  severely  wounded  in  the 
head,  he  becomes  concerned  for  that  young  gen 
tleman.  "  Better  go  below  to  Brooks,"  says  he, 
' '  and  have  your  wounds  dressed. ' ' 

11  I  must  get  square  for  Portsea  jail  first,"  re 
plies  Lieutenant  Mayrant,  who  is  of  those  ex 
changed  ones  enlisted  at  Nantes. 

Lieutenant  Dale,  forward  with  the  twelve- 
pounders,  comes  aft  to  ask  about  the  exploded 
eighteens. 

"  They  were  rotten  when  the  Frenchmen  sold 
them  to  us, ' '  says  Lieutenant  Dale  bitterly. 

"  Ay!  '  responds  Commodore  Paul  Jones. 
"  I'd  give  half  the  prize  money  I  shall  get  from 
yonder  ship  to  have  those  Frenchmen  here." 
Meanwhile  the  Serapis — not  yet  a  prize — is 
fiercely  belching  flame  and  smoke,  while  her  shot 
tear  the  vitals  out  of  the  Richard. 

The  ships  have  been  fighting  half  an  hour— 
183 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

rough  broadside  work ;  the  Richard  with  its  lighter 
metal  has  had  the  worst  of  the  barter.  They  have 
sailed,  or  rather  drifted,  a  mile  and  a  half,  edging 
closer  to  one  another  as  they  forge  slowly  to  the 
north  and  west. 

The  Serapis,  being  the  livelier  ship,  has  fore- 
reached   on  the  Richard,  and  Captain  Pearson 
sees  the  chance  to  luff  across  the  latter 's  bows. 
Having  torn   the  Richard  open  with   a   raking 
broadside,   Captain  Pearson  will  then  go  clear 
around  the  Yankee,  put  the  Serapis  upon  the  star 
board  tack,  and  claim  in  his  turn  the  weather- 
gage.    It  is  a  brilliant  thought,  and  Captain  Pear 
son  pulls  down  his  helm  to  execute  it.    Already 
he  sees  victory  in  his  fingers.    He  is  radiant;  it 
will  make  him  a  Knight  Commander  of  the  Bath. 
While  Captain  Pearson  is  manoeuvring  for  that 
title,  the  hot  broadside  dispute  proceeds  with  un 
flagging  fury.     Only  the  Richard  is  beginning  to 
bleed  and  gasp;  those  ten  eighteen-pounders  of 
the    Serapis    overmaster    its    weaker    batteries. 
Also,  by  this  time  they  are  doubly  weak ;  for  more 
than  half  of  the  Richard's  twelve-pounders  have 

184 


The     Story    of    Paul    Jones 

been  dismounted,  and  the  balance  are  so  jammed 
with  wreckage  and  splinters  as  to  forbid  them 
being  worked.  Lieutenant  Dale  reports  the  crip 
pled  condition  of  the  Richard's  broadside  to  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones,  where  the  latter  stands  on 
the  after-deck,  in  personal  command  of  the  French 
marines,  whose  captain  has  crept  below  with  a 
hurt  knee. 

"  We  have  but  three  effective  twelve-pounders 
left,"  says  Lieutenant  Dale. 

66  Three?  "  retorts  Commodore  Paul  Jones, 
cheerfully.  "  Now,  well-aimed  and  low,  Dick, 
much  good  damage  may  be  worked  with  three 
twelve-pounders. ' ' 

Lieutenant  Dale  wipes  the  blood  and  sweat  and 
powder-stains  from  his  face,  salutes,  and  goes 
back  to  his  three  guns;  while  Commodore  Paul 
Jones,  alive  to  the  enemy's  new  manoeuvre,  takes 
the  wheel  from  the  quartermaster. 

To  check  the  ambitious  Pearson  in  his  efforts 
to  luff  across  his  forefoot,  Commodore  Paul  Jones 
pays  off  the  Richard's  head  a  point.  The  check 
is  not  alone  successful,  but  under  the  influence 

185 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

of  that  master  hand,  the  Richard  all  but  gets  the 
Serapis'  head  into  chancery. 

Being  defeated  in  his  luff,  Captain  Pearson 
next  discovers  that  his  brisk  antagonist  has  put 
him  in  a  dilemma.  If  he  holds  on,  the  Richard 
will  run  him  down;  he  can  already  see  the  great, 
black  cutwater  rearing  itself  on  high,  as  though 
to  crush  him  and  cut  him  in  two.  If  he  pays  off 
the  head  of  the  Serapis,  and  avoids  being  run 
down,  the  Richard  will  still  foul  and  grapple  with 
him.  Lieutenant  Mayrant's  bandaged  head  shows 
above  the  Richard's  hammock  nettings,  as,  with 
grappling  irons  ready  for  throwing,  he  musters  a 
party  of  boarders — cutlass  and  pistol  and  pike- 
to  have  them  in  hand  the  moment  the  ships  crash 
together.  That  title  of  Knight  Commander  of  the 
Bath,  and  the  star  and  garter  that  go  with  it,  do 
not  look  so  near  at  hand.  Also,  the  Serapis,  at 
this  closer  range,  begins  to  feel  the  musket-fire 
from  the  Richard's  tops.  One  after  another,  three 
seamen  are  shot  down  at  the  wheel  of  the  Serapis. 

In  this  desperate  emergency,  Captain  Pearson, 
good  sailorman  that  he  is,  neither  holds  on  nor 

186 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

pays  off,  but  with  everything  thrown  aback  at 
tempts  to  box-haul  his  ship.  It  may  take  the 
sticks  out  by  the  roots,  but  he  must  risk  it.  The 
chance  is  preferable  to  being  either  run  down  or 
boarded. 

The  Serapis  is  a  new  ship,  fresh  from  the  yards, 
and  her  spars  and  cordage  stand  the  strain.  Cap 
tain  Pearson  backs  himself  slowly  out  of  the  trap. 
He  grazes  fate  so  closely  that  the  Richard,  an 
swering  some  sudden  occult  movement  of  the 
helm,  runs  its  bowsprit  over  the  larboard  quarter 
of  the  Serapis,  into  its  mizzen  rigging. 

"Stand    by    with    those    grappling    irons!7 
shouts  Commodore  Paul  Jones. 

Lieutenant  Mayrant  throws  the  grapples  with  a 
seaman's  accuracy;  they  catch,  as  he  means  they 
shall,  in  the  mizzen  backstays  of  the  Englishman. 
But  the  ships  have  too  much  way  on.  The  Rich 
ard  forges  ahead;  the  Serapis,  every  sail  flat 
tened,  backs  free;  the  lines  part.  Before  Lieu 
tenant  Mayrant  can  take  his  jolly  boarders  over 
the  Richard's  bows,  the  ships  have  swung  apart, 
and  fifty  feet  of  open  water  yawn  between  them. 

187 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

The  Serapis  falls  to  leeward;  at  the  end  of  the 
next  five  minutes  both  ships  are  back  in  their  old 
positions,  with  their  broadside  guns — or  what  are 
left  of  them — at  that  furious  work  of  hammer 
and  tongs. 

At  this  crashing  business  of  broadsiding,  the 
Richard  has  no  chance,  and  Commodore  Paul 
Jones — a  smile  on  his  dauntless  lips,  eyes  bright 
and  glancing  like  those  of  a  child  with  a  new 
toy — stands  well  aware  of  it.  He  must  board 
the  Englishman,  or  he  is  lost.  As  showing 
what  Captain  Pearson's  eighteen-pounders  can 
do,  the  Richard's  starboard  battery — being  the 
one  in  action — shows  nine  of  its  twelve-pounders 
dismounted  from  their  carriages;  while,  of  the 
one  hundred  and  forty-three  officers  and  men 
who  belong  with  the  main  gun-deck  battery 
under  Lieutenant  Dale,  eighty-seven  lie  dead  and 
wounded.  The  gun-deck  itself,  a-litter  with  dis 
mounted  guns  and  shot-smashed  carriages  and 
tackle,  is  slippery  with  blood,  and  choked  by  a 
red  clutter  of  dead  and  wounded  sailors. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  turns  to  his  orderly, 
188 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Jack  Downes.  ' t  Present  my  compliments  to  Lieu 
tenant  Dale/'  says  he,  "  and  ask  him  to  step 
aft." 

Bloody,  powder-grimed,  Lieutenant  Dale  re 
sponds. 

"  Dick,"  observes  Commodore  Paul  Jones, 
< '  he 's  too  heavy  for  us.  We  must  close  with  him ; 
we  must  get  hold  of  him.  Bring  what  men  you 
have  to  the  spar-deck,  and  serve  out  the  small 
arms  for  boarding. " 

The  breeze  veers  to  the  west,  and  freshens  up  a 
bit.  This  helps  the  Richard  sooner  than  it  does 
the  Sera-pis;  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  having  ad 
vantage  of  it,  wears  and  makes  directly  for  his 
enemy.  This  move,  like  a  stroke  of  genius,  brings 
him  within  one  hundred  feet  of  the  Serapis,  di 
rectly  between  it  and  the  wind.  It  is  his  purpose 
to  blanket  the  enemy,  and  steal  the  breeze  from 
him.  He  succeeds ;  the  Serapis  loses  way. 

It  is  now  the  turn  of  Commodore  Paul  Jones 
to  go  across  his  enemy's  forefoot,  and  retort  upon 
the  Serapis  that  manoeuvre  which  Captain  Pear 
son  attempted  against  the  Richard.  But  with  this 

189 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

difference:  Captain  Pearson's  purpose  was  to 
rake;  Commodore  Paul  Jones'  purpose  is  to 
board ;  for  he  has  now  no  guns  wherewith  to  rake. 

The  Serapis  is  held  as  though  in  irons,  canvas 
a-flap,  by  the  blanket  of  the  Richard's  broad  sails. 
Slowly  yet  surely,  like  the  coming  of  a  doom, 
the  Richard  forges  across  the  other's  head.  The 
design  of  Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  to  lay  the 
Serapis  aboard,  lash  ship  to  ship,  and  sweep  the 
Englishman's  decks  with  his  boarders.  These, 
armed  to  the  teeth,  as  ready  for  the  rush  as  so 
many  hunting  dogs,  Lieutenant  Mayrant  is  hold 
ing  in  the  waist. 

The  Richard  is  half  its  length  across  the  bows 
of  the  Serapis — still  helpless,  sails  a-droop !  Sud 
denly,  by  a  twist  of  the  helm,  Commodore  Paul 
Jones  broaches  the  Richard  to  on  the  opposite 
tack,  and  doubles  down  on  his  prey.  It  is  the  be 
ginning  of  the  end.  The  jib-boom  of  the  Serapis 
runs  in  over  the  poop-deck  of  the  Richard;  a  turn 
is  instantly  taken  on  it  with  a  small  hawser  by 
Lieutenant  Dale,  who  makes  all  fast  to  the  Rich 
ard's  mizzen-mast.  The  ships  swing  closer  and 

190 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

closer  together;  at  last  the  two  rasp  broadside 
against  broadside,  the  Richard  still  holding  its  way. 
As  they  grind  along,  the  outboard  fluke  of  the 
Serapis'  starboard  anchor  catches  in  the  Rich 
ard's  mizzen-chains.  First  one,  then  another 
gives  way;  the  third  holds,  and  the  ships  lie  to 
gether  bow  and  stern.  Commodore  Paul  Jones  is 
over  the  side  like  a  cat;  the  next  moment  he 
lashes  the  Serapis  to  the  Richard,  and  the  death- 
hug  is  at  hand. 


191 


CHAPTER   XVI 

HOW   THE   BATTLE   EAGED 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  drops  overboard  his 
cocked  hat.  Orderly  Jack  Downes  rushes  into  the 
cabin  and  gets  another.  Returning,  he  offers  it 
to  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  who  waves  it  away 
with  a  laugh. 

1 '  Chuck  it  through  the  skylight,  Jack, ' '  he  says ; 
"  I'll  fight  this  out  in  my  scalp/'  Then,  glancing 
forward  at  the  sailors,  naked  to  the  waist :  "  If  it 
were  not  for  the  looks  of  the  thing,  I'd  off  coat 
and  shirt,  and  fight  in  the  buff  like  yonder  gal 
lant  hearties." 

There  is  a  sudden  smashing  of  the  Richard's 
bulwarks,  a  splintering  of  spars;  a  sleet  of  shot, 
grape  and  solid  and  bar,  tears  through  the  ship! 
In  the  wake  of  that  hail  of  iron  comes  the  thun 
der  of  the  guns — loud  and  close  aboard !  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones  looks  about  in  angry  wonder; 
that  broadside  was  not  from  the  Serapis! 

193 


The- Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  It's  the  Alliance!  "  cries  Lieutenant  Dale, 
rushing  aft.  "  Landais  is  firing  on  us!  ' 

Not  half  a  cable-length  away  lies  the  Alliance, 
head  to  the  wind,  topsails  back,  half  hidden  in  a 
curling  smother  of  powder-smoke.  There  comes 
but  the  one  broadside.  Even  as  Commodore  Paul 
Jones  looks,  the  traitor's  head  pays  slowly  off;  a 
moment  later  the  sails  belly  and  fill,  and  the  Alli 
ance  is  running  seaward  before  the  wind.  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  grits  out  a  curse. 

"  Landais!  Was  ever  another  such  a  villain 
out  of  hell!  " 

The  villain  Landais  makes  off.  There  is  no  time 
for  maledictions ;  besides,  a  court-martial  will 
come  later  for  that  miscreant.  Just  now  Captain 
Pearson,  with  his  Serapis,  claims  the  attention  of 
Commodore  Paul  Jones. 

The  tackle  takes  the  strain;  the  lashings,  and 
that  fortunate  starboard  anchor  of  the  Serapis, 
hold  the  ships  together.  Captain  Pearson  sees 
the  peril,  and  the  way  to  free  himself. 

"  Cut  away  that  sta 'board  anchor!  "  he  cries. 
Then,  as  a  seaman  armed  with  a  hatchet  springs 

193 


The     Story     of     Paul    Jones 

forward,  lie  continues:  "  The  ring-stopper,  man! 
Cut  the  shank-painter  and  the  ring-stopper;  let 
the  anchor  go!  v 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  snatches  a  firelock  from 
one  of  the  agitated  French  marines.  Steadying 
himself  against  a  backstay,  he  raises  the  weapon 
to  his  shoulder  and  fires.  The  ball  goes  crashing 
through  the  seaman 's  head  as  he  raises  his  hatchet 
to  cut  free  the  anchor.  Another  leaps  forward 
and  grasps  the  hatchet.  Seizing  a  second  firelock, 
Commodore  Paul  Jones  stretches  him  across  the 
anchor 's  shank,  where  he  lies  clutching  and  groan 
ing  and  bleeding  his  life  away.  As  the  second 
man  goes  down,  those  nearest  fall  back.  That 
fatal  starboard  anchor  is  a  death-trap ;  they  want 
none  of  it!  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  alert  as  a 
wildcat  and  as  bent  for  blood,  keeps  grim  watch, 
firelock  in  fist,  at  the  backstay. 

"  I  turned  those  hitches  with  my  own  hands/' 
says  he;  "  and  I'll  shoot  down  any  Englishman 
who  meddles  with  them. ' ' 

The  French  marines,  despite  the  hardy  example 
of  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  are  in  a  panic.  Their 

194 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Captain  Cammillard  is  wounded,  and  has  retired 
below.  Now  their  two  lieutenants  are  gone.  Be 
sides,  of  the  more  than  one  hundred  to  go  into  the 
fight,  no  more  than  twenty-five  remain.  These, 
nerve-shattered  and  deeming  all  as  lost,  are  fallen 
into  disorder  and  dismay.  The  centuries  have 
taught  them  to  fear  these  sullen  English.  The 
lesson  has  come  down  to  them  in  the  blood  of  their 
fathers  who  fought  at  Crecy,  Poitiers,  Blenheim, 
Bamillies,  and  Malplaquet  that  these  bulldog 
islanders  are  unconquerable !  Panic  grasps  them 
at  the  moment  of  all  moments  when  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  requires  them  most. 

Seeing  them  thus  shaken  and  beaten  in  their 
hearts,  Commodore  Paul  Jones — who  knows 
Frenchmen  in  their  impulses  as  he  knows  his  own 
face  in  a  glass — adopts  the  theatrical.  He  rushes 
into  their  midst,  thundering : 

' '  Courage,  my  friends !  What  a  day  for  France 
is  this!  We  have  these  dogs  of  English  at  our 
mercy!  Courage  but  a  little  while,  my  friends, 
and  the  day  is  ours !  Oh,  what  a  day  for  France !  ' 

As  adding  eclat  to  that  day  for  France,  Com- 
195 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

modore  Paul  Jones  snatches  a  third  firelock  from 
the  nearest  marine,  and  shoots  down  a  third 
Briton  who,  hatchet  upraised,  is  rushing  upon 
that  detaining  anchor.  Following  this  exploit,  he 
wheels  again  upon  those  wavering  marines,  and 
by  way  of  raising  their  spirits  pours  forth  in 
French  such  a  cataract  of  curses  upon  all  English 
men  and  English  things  that  it  fairly  exhausts 
the  imagination  of  his  hearers  to  keep  abreast 
of  it. 

Pierre  Gerard,  the  little  Breton  sailor  who,  with 
Jack  Downes,  acts  as  orderly  to  Commodore  Paul 
Jones,  is  swept  off  his  feet  in  admiration  of  his 
young  commander 's  fire  and  profane  fluency.  Lit 
tle  Pierre  takes  fire  in  his  turn. 

61  See!  "  he  cries,  addressing  Jack  Downes, 
who  being  from  New  Hampshire  understands 
never  a  word  of  Pierre's  French,  albeit  he  takes 
it  in,  open-mouthed,  like  spring  water ;  ' '  See !  He 
springs  among  them  like  a  tiger  among  calves! 
Ah,  they  respond  to  him!  Yes,  in  an  instant  he 
arouses  their  courage!  They  look  upon  him— 
him,  who  has  bravery  without  end !  Name  of  God ! 
To  see  him  is  to  become  a  hero !  ' 

196 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

It  is  as  the  excitable  little  Pierre  recounts.  The 
French  marines,  lately  so  cowed,  look  upon  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  to  become  heroes.  With 
shouts  and  cries  they  crowd  about  him  valorously. 
He  directs  their  fire  against  the  English,  who 
man  the  long-nines  in  the  open  waist  of  the 
Serapis.  The  fire  of  the  recovered  Frenchmen 
drives  those  English  from  their  guns.  Thereupon 
the  French  go  wild  with  a  fierce  joy,  and  are  all 
for  boarding  the  Serapis.  Commodore  Paul  Jones 
has  as  much  trouble  restraining  them  from  rush 
ing  forward  as  he  had  but  a  moment  before  to 
keep  them  from  falling  back. 

Captain  Pearson  has  never  taken  his  eyes  from 
that  fatal  starboard  anchor,  holding  him  fast  to 
the  Richard.  There  it  lies,  his  own  anchor— the 
key-stone  to  the  arch  of  his  ruin !  If  it  take  every 
English  life  aboard  the  Serapis,  it  must  be  cut 
away !  He  orders  four  men  forward  in  a  body,  to 
cut  shank-painter  and  ring-stopper. 

There  comes  an  instant  volley  from  the  recov 
ered  French  marines,  led  by  Commodore  Paul 
Jones,  who  fires  with  them.  Before  that  wither 
ing  volley  the  four  hatchet-men  fall  in  a  crum- 

197 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

pled,  bloody  heap.  The  fatal  anchor  still  holds; 
the  ships  grind  side  by  side. 

Captain  Pearson  orders  forward  more  men,  and 
still  more  men,  to  cut  away  that  anchor,  which  is 
as  an  anchor  of  death,  tying  him  broadside  and 
broadside  to  destruction.  Fourteen  men  die,  one 
across  the  other,  under  the  fire  of  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  and  his  French  marines — each  of  the 
latter  being  now  a  volcano  of  fiery  valor!  The 
last  to  perish  is  Lieutenant  Popplewill;  he  dies 
honorably  at  the  hands  of  Commodore  Paul  Jones 
himself,  who  sends  a  musket  ball  through  the  high 
heart  of  the  young  dreadnought  just  as  he  reaches 
those  fatal  fastenings. 

While  this  labor  of  death  and  bloody  slaughter 
goes  on  above,  the  smashing  work  of  the  Serapis' 
eighteen-pounders  has  not  ceased  between  decks. 
As  the  two  ships  come  together,  the  lower-tier 
gun  crews  of  the  Serapis  are  shifted  from  the  port 
to  the  starboard  batteries.  They  attempt  to  run 
out  the  guns,  and  are  withstood  by  the  port-lids, 
which  refuse  to  be  triced  up,  the  Eichard  grinding 
them  so  hard  and  close  as  to  hold  them  fast, 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  What!  "  cries  Lieutenant  Wright,  who  has 
command  of  the  Serapis'  eighteen-pounders ; 
"  the  ports  won't  open!  Open  them  with  your 
round-shot,  then,  my  hearties !  Fire !  ' 

And  so  the  broadside  of  the  Serapis  is  fired 
through  its  own  planks  and  timbers,  to  open  a 
way  to  the  Richard. 

6  i  There !  ' '  cries  Lieutenant  Wright  exultantly, 
"  that  should  give  your  guns  a  chance  to  breathe, 
my  bucks!  Now  show  us  how  fast  you  can  send 
your  iron  aboard  the  Yankee !  ' 

The  English  broadside  men  respond  with  such 
goodwill  that  they  literally  cut  the  Richard  in  two 
between  decks  with  their  tempest  of  solid  eigh 
teen-pound  shot. 

While  this  smashing  battery  work  goes  for 
ward,  hammer  and  anvil,  the  Serapis'  twelve- 
pounders  are  tearing  and  rending  the  Richard's 
upper  decks,  piling  them  in  ruins.  Every  twelve- 
pounder  belonging  to  the  Richard  is  rendered 
dumb.  Only  three  long-nines  remain  in  service. 
These  are  mounted  on  the  quarter-deck,  under  the 
eye  of  Commodore  Paul  Jones. 

199 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  Suppose,  Mr.  Lindthwait,  you  train  them  on 
the  enemy's  mainmast!  "  he  observes  to  the  mid 
shipman,  under  whose  command  he  places  the 
three  long-nines.  ' '  Try  for  his  mainmast,  young 
man!  It  will  be  good  gunnery  practise  for  you; 
and  should  you  cut  the  stick  in  two,  so  much  the 
better." 

Midshipman  Lindthwait  serves  his  trio  of  long 
nines  with  so  much  relish  and  vivacious  accuracy 
that  he  soon  has  the  mainmast  of  the  Serapis  cut 
half  away.  Leaving  him  to  his  task,  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  again  takes  his  French  marines  in 
hand,  uplifts  their  souls  with  a  fresh  torrent  of 
anti-English  vituperation,  and  keeps  them  to  the 
business  of  clearing  the  enemy's  deck. 

One  of  the  nine-pound  shot  of  the  industrious 
Lindthwait,  flying  low,  strikes  the  main  hatch  of 
the  Serapis,  and  slews  the  hatch  cover  to  one  side. 
It  leaves  a  triangular  opening,  eighteen  inches  on 
its  longish  side,  at  one  corner  of  the  hatch.  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  has  his  hawklike  eye  on  it  in 
stantly.  He  points  it  out  to  midshipman  Fan 
ning  and  gunner  Henry  Gardner. 

200 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  There's  your  chance,  my  lads!  "  he  cries. 
' '  Sharp  's  the  word  now !  Lay  aloft  on  the  main 
topsail  yard,  with  a  bucketful  of  hand-grenades, 
and  see  if  you  can't  chuck  one  into  her  belly.  A 
few  hand-grenades,  exploding  among  their  eigh- 
teen-pounders  below  decks,  would  go  far  towards 
showing  these  English  the  error  of  their  ways." 

Off  skurry  Midshipman  Fanning  and  Gunner 
Gardner,  with  three  sailors  close  behind.  A  mo 
ment  later  they  are  racing  up  the  shrouds  like 
monkeys,  two  ratlins  at  a  time.  Buckets  of  hand- 
grenades  go  with  them,  while  Lieutenant  Stack 
rigs  a  whip  to  the  maintop  to  send  them  up  a 
fresh  supply. 

The  five  lie  out  on  the  main  topsail  yard,  like  a 
quintette  of  squirrels,  midshipman  Fanning,  a 
bright  lad  from  New  London,  getting  the  place  of 
honor  at  the  earring.  The  three  sailors  pass  the 
hand-grenades,  gunner  Gardner  fires  the  fuse 
with  his  slow  match,  while  midshipman  Fanning, 
perched  at  the  farthest  end  of  the  yard,  hurls 
them  at  that  eight een-inch  triangle,  where  the 
hatch  cover  of  the  Serapis  has  been  shifted. 

Sixty  feet  below  the  hand-grenade  quintette, 
201 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  again  dealing  out  pro 
fane  encouragement  to  his  marines,  for  their 
ardor  sensibly  slackens  the  moment  he  takes  his 
eye  off  them.  They  do  good  work,  however— 
these  Frenchmen !  Under  their  fire  the  upper  deck 
of  the  Serapis  becomes  a  slaughter-pen.  One 
after  another,  seven  men  are  shot  down  at  the 
Englishman's  wheel.  This  does  not  affect  the 
Serapis;  since,  locked  together  in  the  death  grap 
ple,  both  ships  are  adrift,  and  have  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  their  helms  for  twenty  minutes.  Still,  it 
does  the  Frenchman  go6d  to  shoot  down  those 
wheelmen.  Also,  it  mortifies  the  pride  of  the  Eng 
lish;  for  to  be  unable  to  stay  ai  one's  own  wheel 
is  in  its  way  a  disgrace. 

While  Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  uplifting  his 
Frenchmen,  and  improving  their  sinall-arm  prac 
tice,  orderly  Jack  Downes,  who  has  been  forward 
to  Lieutenant  Dale  with  an  order,  comes  rushing 
aft. 

1 1  Lieutenant  Dale,  sir,  reports  six  feet  of  water 
in  our  hold ;  and  coming  in  fast,  sir !  ' 

Orderly  Jack  Downes  touches  his  forelock,  face 
as  stolid  as  a  statue's,  and  not  at  all  as  though 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

he  has  just  reported  the  ship  to  be  sinking.  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  smiles  approval  on  stolid  Jack 
Downes ;  he  likes  coolness  and  self-command.  Be 
fore  he  can  speak,  Lieutenant  Mayrant  comes  aft 
to  say  that  the  Richard  is  on  fire. 

"  Catches  from  the  enemy's  wadding, "  says 
Lieutenant  Mayrant.  "  For  you  must  understand, 
sir,  that  when  the  enemy's  eighteen-pounders  are 
run  out,  their  muzzles  pierce  through  the  shot- 
holes  in  our  sides — we  lay  that  close!  As  it  is, 
they've  set  us  all  ablaze." 

"  But  you've  got  the  flames  in  hand?  ' 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  puts  the  question  con 
fidently.  He  is  sure  that  Lieutenant  Mayrant 
wouldn't  be  by  his  side  at  that  moment  unless  the 
fire  is  under  command. 

"  Lieutenant  Stack,  with  ten  men  to  pass  the 
buckets,  sir,  are  attending  to  it.  It's  quite  easy, 
the  water  in  our  hold  being  so  deep.  They  have 
but  to  dip  it  up  and  throw  it  on  the  fire. ' ' 

66  Good!  "  exclaimed  Commodore  Paul  Jones. 
"  Now  that's  what  I  call  making  one  hand  wash 
the  other.  We  put  out  the  flames  that  are  eating 
us  up  with  the  water  that  is  sinking  us. ' ' 

203 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE    SUEEENDEE    OF    THE    "  SEEAPIS  r' 

Master-at-arms  John  Burbank  looks  over  the 
Richard's  side,  and  makes  a  discovery.  The  ship 
has  settled  three  feet  below  its  trim.  Thereupon 
he  loses  his  head,  which  was  never  a  strong  head, 
but  somewhat  thick,  and  addled: 

' i  The  ship  is  sinking !  "  he  shouts ;  then,  being 
a  humanitarian,  he  tears  off  the  orlop-hatch,  and 
calls  to  the  two  hundred  prisoners  shut  up  below 
to  save  themselves. 

At  the  invitation  of  Humanitarian  Burbank,  the 
prisoners  rush  up.  Fifty  of  them  have  gained 
the  deck  when  Commodore  Paul  Jones  perceives 
them.  Pulling  a  pistol  from  his  belt,  he  charges 
forward. 

"  Who  released  these  prisoners?  "  he  demands. 

"  The  ship  is  sinking,  sir,"  replies  Humani 
tarian  Burbank.  "  I  released  them  to  give  them 
a  chance  for  their  lives.7' 

204 


The  capture  of  the  Strap  is. 


Pa^e  204 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

Eye  ablaze,  Commodore  Paul  Jones  snaps  his 
pistol  in  the  face  of  Humanitarian  Burbank.  For 
tunately  for  that  philanthropist,  the  priming  has 
been  shaken  out;  while  the  flint  throws  off  a 
shower  of  sparks,  the  pistol  does  not  explode. 
Upon  its  failure  to  fire.  Commodore  Paul  Jones 
clubs  the  heavy  weapon,  and  fells  Humanitarian 
Burbank  to  the  deck.  The  latter  comes  to  pres 
ently,  to  find  himself  disrated  on  the  ship's  books, 
and  his  addled  pate  more  addled  than  before.  As 
Humanitarian  Burbank  falls  to  the  deck,  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones  makes  a  dash  for  the  prisoners, 
who,  two  abreast,  are  pushing  up  from  the  deck 
below. 

"  Under  hatches  with  them!  "  he  cries. 

This  rouses  Midshipman  Potter,  who  brings  up 
a  half  dozen  cutlass  men,  and  those  of  the  prison 
ers  not  yet  on  deck  are  held  below.  The  orlop- 
hatch  is  again  fitted  to  its  place,  and  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  breathes  freer.  Two  hundred  prison 
ers  loose  about  his  decks  is  not  what  he  most 
desires. 

"  Set  them  to  the  pumps,  Dick,"  he  says,  ad- 
205 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

dressing  Lieutenant  Dale.  "  Give  them  plenty  of 
work."  Then,  to  the  fifty  prisoners  who  gained 
the  deck:  "Now,  my  men,  to  the  pumps,  all  of 
you!  I'll  have  no  idlers  about!  ' 

The  prisoners  go  to  the  pumps  readily  enough 
— all  save  a  stubborn  merchant  captain,  whose 
ship  was  captured  by  the  Richard  off  the  port  of 
Leith. 

"  Don't  ye  go  a-nigh  the  pumps,  mates !  "  sings 
out  the  stubborn  one.  "  Let  the  damned  Yankee 
pirate  sink!  ' 

"  Obey  the  Commodore,  sare!  "  pipes  up  little 
Pierre  Gerard,  presenting  a  pistol  at  the  head  of 
the  mutineer.  ' '  Obey  the  Commodore,  or  I  shoot, 
sare!  ' 

The  stubborn  Scotch  captain  does  not  under 
stand  little  Pierre 's  broken  English,  but  the  pistol 
is  easily  construed.  For  reply,  he  makes  a  quick 
grab  at  the  weapon.  Little  Pierre,  not  to  be 
caught  napping,  shoots  him  promptly  through  the 
head.  As  the  stubborn  one  drops  lifeless,  the  lit 
tle  Breton  wheels  on  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  lays 
his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  makes  an  apologetic 

bow. 

206 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  I  shoot  heem,  sare,  to  relieve  you  of  a  dis 
agreeable  duty,"  says  little  Pierre. 

The  other  prisoners  are  not  unimpressed  by  the 
fate  of  the  stubborn  one,  and  set  to  work  briskly, 
if  not  cheerfully,  at  the  clanking  pumps. 

As  Commodore  Paul  Jones  reaches  the  quarter 
deck,  following  the  incident  wherein  Humani 
tarian  Burbank  performs,  and  the  stubborn 
Scotch  captain  dies,  the  ensign-gaff  of  the  Richard 
is  shot  away,  and  the  virgin  petticoat  flag  of  the 
pretty  New  Hampshire  girls  trails  overboard. 
This  gives  rise  to  a  misunderstanding.  Gunner 
Arthur  Kandall,  missing  the  ensign,  and  his  hopes 
being  somewhat  low  at  the  time,  calls  out  to  the 
Englishman: 

"  Cease  firing!    We've  surrendered!  ' 

Captain  Pearson,  on  the  quarter-deck  of  the 
Serapis,  hears  the  cry.  There  could  have  come 
no  more  welcome  news !  Captain  Pearson  would 
have  heard  gunner  Randall  if  the  latter  had 
spoken  in  a  whisper!  Face  aglow  with  joy,  Cap 
tain  Pearson  hails  the  Richard: 

li  Do  you  surrender!  "  he  demands. 
207 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  leaps  to  the  rail  of  the 
Richard,  and  sustains  himself  by  one  of  the  after- 
braces. 

"  Surrender?  "  he  repeats,  his  brow  dark  with 
rage.  i  i  Surrender  ?  I  would  have  you  to  know,  sir, 
that  we  Ve  just  begun  to  fight !  ' ' 

Back  to  the  deck  springs  Commodore  Paul 
Jones,  while  the  face  of  Captain  Pearson  is 
stricken  old  and  white.  For  the  earliest  time  he 
realizes  the  desperate  heart  of  that  unconquerable 
one  who  has  him  in  a  death-grapple,  and  a  premo 
nition  of  his  own  defeat  pierces  his  heart  like  a 
dagger  of  ice.  As  Commodore  Paul  Jones  re 
gains  the  deck,  he  observes  Boatswain  Jack  Eob- 
inson  who  has  waddled  aft.  The  cloud  of  anger 
fades  from  his  brow,  and  he  breaks  into  a  loud 
laugh  that  is  tenfold  worse  than  the  cloud. 

i  i  Eh,  Jack,  old  trump !  What  say  you  to  quit 
ting!  "  he  cries. 

"  Why!  as  to  surrendering  Commodore, "  says 
Boatswain  Jack  Robinson,  refreshing  himself 
with  a  huge  chew  of  tobacco,  "I'm  for  sinkin' 
alongside  an'  seein'  'em  damned  first!  Sink 

208 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 


alongside,  says  I;  an'  if  the  grapplin'  tackle 
holds,  we'll  take  'em  with  us  to  Davy  Jones,  d'ye 
see!  An' that'll  be  a  comfort!  " 

"  There's  the  heart  of  oak!  "  returns  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones,  in  vast  approval  of  Boatswain 
Jack  Robinson's  turgid  views;  "  and  when  we're 
next  ashore  in  New  London,  old  shipmate,  I'll 
tell  Polly  all  about  it.  Meanwhile,  our  ensign's 
trailing  astern.  Set  it  aboard  by  the  halyards, 
fish  and  splice  the  gaff,  and  put  it  back  in  its 
place.  Give  the  Englishmen  a  sight  of  that  red, 
white  and  blue  flag,  Jack;  it  takes  the  fight  out 
of  'em." 

* '  Ay,  ay,  sir !  "  responds  Boatswain  Jack  Rob 
inson,  as  he  begins  the  task  of  recovering  and  re 
placing  the  ensign.  ' '  That  flag  does  seem  to  let 
the  whey  out  of  a  Britisher. ' ' 

This  is  gratuitous  slander  on  the  parts  of  both 
Commodore  Paul  Jones  and  Boatswain  Jack  Rob 
inson;  for  those  villified  ones  have  been  fighting 
for  hours,  and  are  still  at  it  with  the  quenchless 
valor  of  so  many  mastiffs. 

There  is  that  at  hand,  however,  that  will  daunt 
209 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

their  iron  courage  and  feed  even  their  stout 
hearts  to  dismay.  High  up  at  the  weather  ear 
ring  of  the  Richard's  main  topsail  yard,  Midship 
man  Fanning  has  been  faithfully  practicing  with 
hand-grenades  at  that  inviting  triangular  hole, 
where  the  hatch-cover  of  the  Serapis  was  shot- 
slewed  to  one  side.  It  is  not  an  easy  mark,  that 
black,  three-cornered  hole,  and  thus  far  Midship 
man  Fanning  has  missed.  It  is  now  that  success 
crowns  his  work;  a  smoking,  spitting  hand-gren 
ade  goes  cleanly  through,  and  fetches  up  on  the 
Serapis'  lower  gun  deck.  The  explosion  instantly 
occurs;  it  is  as  though  the  fuse  were  carefully 
timed  for  it. 

If  this  were  all  it  would  be  bad  enough,  but 
worse  comes  with  it.  There  are  scores  of  car 
tridges  cumbering  the  deck  to  the  rear  of  the  bat 
teries;  for  the  powder  monkeys  of  the  Serapis, 
earning  their  pay  and  allowances,  have  been 
bringing  powder  from  the  magazines  much  faster 
than  the  gunners  can  burn  it  in  their  eighteen- 
pounders.  The  exploding  hand-grenade  sets  off 
this  powder.  There  is  a  blinding  sheet  of  flame ; 

210 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

a  report  like  smothered  thunder;  the  deck  of  the 
Serapis  is  all  but  torn  from  its  timbers !  Fifty 
of  the  crew  are  killed  or  crippled,  while  the 
slewed  hatch-cover  is  blown  overboard.  No  trou 
ble  now  to  hit  that  yawning  black  hatchway. 
With  such  a  target  there  can  be  no  talk  of  miss 
ing,  and  Midshipman  Fanning  and  gunner  Gard 
ner,  from  their  high  perch  on  the  main  topsail 
yard,  fill  the  stomach  of  the  Serapis  with  a  burst 
ing,  death-dealing  shower.  And  so  the  end  comes 
tapping  at  the  door. 

Lieutenant  Mayrant,  with  his  boarding  party, 
stands  waiting  the  signal.  Commodore  Paul 
Jones  notes  the  devastation  wrought  by  Midship 
man  Fanning 's  hand-grenades. 

' '  Boarders  away !  "he  cries. 

Lieutenant  Mayrant  and  his  men  go  swarming 
over  the  hammock  nettings  of  the  Serapis,  the 
red  Indian  port-fire,  Anthony  Jeremiah,  among 
the  foremost. 

As  Lieutenant  Mayrant  reaches  the  deck  of  the 
Serapis,  an  English  sailor  thrusts  him  through 
the  thigh  with  a  pike.  Lieutenant  Mayrant  shoots 

211 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

the  pikeman  though  the  heart.  The  latter  falls 
dead,  pike  rattling  along  the  deck. 

"  Eemember  Portsea  jail,  lads!  "  shouts  Lieu 
tenant  Mayrant,  as  he  strides  limpingly  across 
the  body  of  the  dead  pikeman.  * '  Remember  Port- 
sea  jail !  ' ' 

Nine  in  ten  of  the  boarding  party  are  of  those 
ones  exchanged  at  Nantes.  With  savage  cries, 
they  shout  back,  '  '  Eemember  Portsea  jail !  ' '  and 
the  work  of  their  vengeance  is  begun. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  has  his  eyes  on  Lieu 
tenant  Mayrant  and  his  boarders.  His  attention 
is  claimed  by  orderly  Jack  Downes,  who  plucks 
him  by  the  elbow. 

' l  Beg  pardon,  sir ! ' '  says  orderly  Jack  Downes. 
"  Captain  Landais  with  the  Alliance." 

Sure  enough,  the  Alliance  for  a  second  time  has 
crept  down  upon  them,  unnoticed  in  the  heat  and 
absorbing  fury  of  the  fray.  The  consort  ship  is 
wearing  across  the  Richard's  bows.  What  will 
Landais  do!  Does  he  come  as  friend  or  foe! 
The  Frenchman  has  his  answer  ready,  and  pours 
a  broadside  into  the  Richard  as  he  crosses.  Then 

212 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 


he  sheers  off,  and  again  heads  for  the  open  ocean. 
That  coward  broadside  kills  and  wounds  Master's 
Mate  Caswell  and  seven  men.  Commodore  Paul 
Jones  is  rigid  with  rage  and  wonder. 

' '  The  man  is  mad  1  ' '  says  Lieutenant  Dale. 

' '  I  cannot  understand !  ' '  returns  Commodore 
Paul  Jones.  "  There  is  still  his  crew!  Why 
don't  they  clap  him  in  irons,  or  cut  him  down!  ' 

There  is  a  shout  from  the  deck  of  the  Serapis. 
Captain  Pearson,  his  last  hope  gone,  has  struck 
his  colors  with  his  own  hand.  The  shout  is  from 
the  wounded  Lieutenant  Mayrant,  who  hails  Lieu 
tenant  Dale. 

"  Stop  the  firing,  sir,"  cries  Lieutenant  May- 
rant,  for  the  Richard's  top-men  are  still  blazing 
away  merrily.  "  He  has  struck  his  flag.  Come 
on  board,  and  take  possession!  ' 

Lieutenant  Dale  leaps  to  the  deck  of  the  beaten 
Serapis.  He  sends  Captain  Pearson  aboard  the 
Rlcliard.  Downcast,  eye  full  of  dejection,  Cap 
tain  Pearson  approaches  Commodore  Paul  Jones. 
"With  bowed  head,  saying  never  a  word,  he  ten 
ders  the  conqueror  his  sheathed  sword.  Commo- 

213 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

dore  Paul  Jones  takes  it  and  gives  it  to  Midship 
man  Potter,  who  is  at  his  elbow. 

'  I  accept  your  sword,  Captain/'  says  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones.  "  And  I  bear  testimony  that 
you  have  worn  it  to  the  glory  of  the  English 
navy. ' ' 

Captain  Pearson  makes  no  response.  Bowed  of 
head,  mute  of  lip,  he  stands  before  Commodore 
Paul  Jones,  despair  eating  his  heart. 


214 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

DIPLOMACY  AND  THE  DUTCH 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  goes  aboard  the  beaten 
Serapis.  "  Cut  free  that  sta 'board  anchor!  "  he 
cries.  The  piled  dead  and  wounded  are  lifted 
aside,  and  that  fatal  anchor,  which  for  two  hours 
of  blood  has  been  as  the  backbone  of  battle,  goes 
splashing  into  the  ocean.  The  ships  rock  apart; 
as  they  separate,  Commodore  Paul  Jones  takes 
a  sharp  survey  of  the  Richard.  The  survey  brings 
little  hope;  his  good  ship  that  has  fought  so  well 
for  him  lies  in  the  water  four  smothering  feet 
below  its  trim. 

11  There  are  eight  feet  of  water  in  the  hold," 
replies  Lieutenant  Dale,  whom  he  hails.  "  The 
pumps  choke;  there's  no  chance  to  save  the  ship." 

Then  arises  a  sudden  rending  and  tearing 
aboard  the  Serapis;  there  is  a  great  swish!  and 
a  snapping  of  cordage.  It  is  the  mainmast  crash 
ing  to  port,  a  tangle  of  ropes  and  spars. 

215 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,"  says  a  voice  at  the  elbow 
of  Commodore  Paul  Jones.  "I'd  have  had  it 
down  an  hour  ago,  but  there  was  neither  wind 
nor  swell  to  help  me.  I  had  to  cut  it  in  two  shot 
by  shot  to  drop  it,  sir." 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  breaks  into  a  smile. 
"  Ah,  yes;  I  remember,  Mr.  Lindthwait!  I  set 
you  at  that  mainmast  with  the  three  long  nines. 
I  wish  now  that  I'd  given  you  another  target. 
However,  you  did  extremely  well.  It  should  teach 
you,  too,  my  lad,  that  a  nine  is  as  good  as  an 
eighteen,  if  you'll  only  go  close  enough.  That's 
it;  there's  the  whole  secret  of  success  in  war.  Be 
sure  and  go  close  enough,  and  you  will  conquer. ' ' 

Midshipman  Lindthwait  salutes  respectfully, 
and  lays  away  that  golden  rule  of  the  battle  art 
in  his  memory. 

The  removal  of  the  Richard's  wounded  is  be 
gun.  The  calm,  windless  sea  assists;  at  last  no 
one  is  left  aboard  the  shot-pierced  Richard  but 
the  dead. 

Sixty  lionhearts,  who  gave  their  lives  for  vic 
tory,  are  laid  side  by  side  on  the  deck.  The  pet- 

216 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

ticoat  flag  flies  proudly  from  the  ensign  gaff. 
Commodore  Paul  Jones,  from  the  deck  of  the 
Serapis,  watches  the  Richard  to  the  last.  The 
tears  dim  his  sight,  and  he  is  driven  more  than 
once  to  dash  them  away;  for  a  sailor  loves  his 
ship  as  though  it  were  a  woman. 

The  Richard  settles  by  the  head;  the  stern  is 
lifted  clear  of  the  water.  Then,  as  though  seized 
by  some  impulse,  the  Richard,  bows  first,  dives 
for  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  The  last  that  is  seen, 
as  the  stout  old  ship  goes  down,  is  the  virgin 
petticoat  flag  of  the  pretty  Portsmouth  girls. 
Commodore  Paul  Jones,  bare  of  head,  tears  blind 
ing  his  eyes,  waves  a  last  farewell. 

"  Good-bye,  my  lads!  "  he  cries.  "  And  you, 
too,  my  Richard;  good-bye !  ' 

The  Pallas  comes  up,  breeze  aft.  The  little  ship 
throws  its  head  into  the  wind,  and  Captain  Cot- 
tineau  hails  Commodore  Paul  Jones. 

"  I  have  the  honor,  sir,"  says  Captain  Cotti- 
neau,  "  to  report  the  enemy's  surrender  of  his 
ship." 

Captain  Cottineau  points  with  his  speaking- 
217 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

trumpet  to  the  Countess  of  Scarboro',  a  furlong 
astern,  the  stars  and  stripes  above  the  Union 
Jack. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  congratulates  Captain 
Cottineau,  and  tells  him  to  make  sail  for  Dunkirk 
with  his  prize.  Captain  Cottineau,  observing  the 
helpless  Serapis,  its  deck  a  jungle  of  cordage  and 
broken  timbers,  replies  that  if  Commodore  Paul 
Jones  doesn't  mind  he'd  sooner  stand  by.  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  doesn't  mind,  and  so  Captain 
Cottineau,  with  the  Pallas  and  the  captured  Scar 
boro',  stands  by.  The  loyalty  of  Captain  Cot 
tineau  flushes  the  bronzed  cheek  of  Commodore 
Paul  Jones.  It  is  a  change  from  the  villain  Lan- 
dais!  Ah,  yes!  Landais!  The  brow  of  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones  turns  black  with  anger;  for  a 
moment  he  forgot  the  scoundrel.  He  runs  his 
glass  along  the  horizon  to  seaward.  There  is  no 
sign  of  the  Alliance.  Long  ago  the  traitor  Lan 
dais  turned  his  recreant  bows  for  France. 

An  off-shore  gale  springs  up;  adrift  and  help 
less,  the  Serapis  is  carried  seventy  miles  towards 
the  coast  of  Norway.  This  is  fortunate;  it  car 
ries  the  ship  outside  the  search  of  those  twenty 

218 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

frigates  and  ships  of  the  line,  which  are  already 
furiously  ransacking  the  English  coast  in  quest 
of  Commodore  Paul  Jones. 

The  wind  veers  to  the  southwest,  and  blows  a 
hurricane.  The  Serapis  is  all  but  thrown  upon  the 
coast  of  Denmark,  and  has  work  to  keep  afloat. 
With  one  hundred  and  six  wounded,  and  the  dead 
who  went  down  with  the  Richard,  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  is  short  of  hands  to  work  his  ship. 
At  the  best,  no  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty 
are  fit  for  duty.  In  the  end  the  battered  Serapis 
makes  the  Texel,  and  a  common  sigh  of  relief 
goes  up  from  those  seven  hundred  and  twelve 
souls — crew  and  wounded  and  prisoners — who  are 
aboard  the  ship. 

And  now  Commodore  Paul  Jones  must  lay 
aside  his  sword  for  chicane,  abandon  his  guns  in 
favor  of  diplomacy.  His  anchors  are  hardly  down 
in  Dutch  mud,  before  Sir  Joseph  Yorke,  English 
Ambassador  to  Holland,  demands  the  Serapis 
from  the  Dutch  authorities.  Also,  he  declares  that 
they  must  arrest  Commodore  Paul  Jones  "  as  a 
rebel  and  a  pirate. " 

The  Dutch  display  a  wish  to  argue  the  case 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

with  Sir  Joseph,  while  Commodore  Paul  Jones 
double-shots  his  guns  and  runs  them  out;  for 
much  in  the  way  of  repairs  has  been  effected 
aboard  the  Serapis,  and  although  it  can't  sail  it 
can  fight. 

Sir  Joseph,  at  the  grinning  insolence  of  the 
Serapis'  broadsides — ports  triced  up  and  muzzles 
showing — almost  falls  in  an  apoplectic  fit.  Pur 
ple  as  to  face,  he  sends  a  second  time  to  the  Dutch, 
to  learn  whether  or  no  he  is  to  have  the  Serapis, 
and  the  rebel  and  pirate  Paul  Jones. 

For  five  days  the  Dutch  drink  beer,  smoke 
pipes,  and  think  the  matter  over.  Then  they  tell 
Sir  Joseph  that,  while  they  don't  know  what  to 
call  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  they  have  decided 
not  to  call  him  a  pirate.  Eebel,  he  may  be;  but 
in  that  role  of  rebel  King  George  and  Sir  Joseph 
must  catch  him  for  themselves.  The  most  the 
Dutch  will  do  is  order  the  Serapis  to  leave  the 
Texel.  At  this  the  empurpled  Sir  Joseph  be 
comes  more  empurpled  than  ever.  It  is  the  best 
he  can  get,  however ;  and  since,  during  the  night, 
a  fleet  of  British  men  of  war,  hearing  of  the 

220 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

whereabouts  of  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  have  in 
vested  the  mouth  of  the  Helder  and  are  waiting 
for  him  to  come  out,  he  begins  to  be  a  trifle  com 
forted.  If  the  Dutch  will  but  drive  the  "  rebel  " 
from  the  port,  it  should  do  nicely;  the  English 
fleet  outside  will  snap  him  up  at  a  mouthful. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  refuses  to  be  driven 
out.  He  sits  stubbornly  by  his  anchors,  decks 
cleared,  guns  shotted,  boarding  nettings  up — an 
insult  to  the  purple  Sir  Joseph  and  a  frowning 
defiance  to  the  Dutch !  The  Dutch  and  Sir  Joseph 
look  at  him,  and  then  at  each  other.  They  agree 
that  he  is  either  the  most  exasperating  of  rebels, 
or  the  most  insolent  of  pirates,  or  the  most  im 
pertinent  of  guests,  according  to  their  various 
standpoints. 

Meanwhile,  the  French  Ambassador  is  bestir 
ring  himself.  He  makes  a  stealthy  visit  to  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones.  The  French  king  has  sent 
him,  post-haste,  a  commission  as  Captain  in  the 
French  marine.  The  French  Ambassador  tenders 
the  commission.  Upon  accepting  it,  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  can  run  up  the  French  flag.  The 

221 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

Dutch  will  respect  the  tri-color,  and  there  will 
come  no  more  orders  for  the  Serapis  to  quit  the 
Texel. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  declines  the  French 
commission.  Neither  will  he  run  up  the  French 
flag.  "  I  am  an  officer  of  the  American  Navy," 
says  he,  "  and  the  French  tri-color  no  more  be 
longs  at  my  masthead  than  at  General  Washing 
ton's  headquarters.  I  shall  stand  or  fall  by  the 
Stars  and  Stripes.  Also,  here  at  the  Texel  I  stay, 
until  I'm  ready  to  leave;  that  I  say  in  the  teeth 
of  Dutchman  and  Englishman  alike. J> 

When  this  hardy  note  goes  ashore,  the  Dutch 
look  solemn,  Sir  Joseph  retires  with  the  gout, 
while  the  English  outside  the  mouth  of  the  Hel- 
der,  stand  off  and  on,  gnashing  their  iron  teeth. 


222 


CHAPTER  XIX 

NOW   FOR    THE    TRAITOR    LANDAIS 

While  the  Dutch  and  Sir  Joseph  are  debating 
as  to  whether  Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  a  rebel, 
a  pirate  or  a  disagreeable  guest,  that  gentleman 
discovers  Landais,  with  the  Alliance,  tucked  away 
in  a  corner  of  the  Texel.  Headwinds,  and  an 
overplus  of  English  on  the  high  seas,  have  forced 
the  miscreant  into  the  Helder,  and  he  finds  him 
self  as  much  cooped  up  as  does  Commodore  Paul 
Jones.  Indeed  the  miserable  Landais  is  in  a  far 
more  serious  predicament;  for,  aside  from  the 
English  outside,  waiting  at  the  Helder 's  mouth 
like  terriers  at  a  rat-hole,  the  formidable  Paul 
Jones  is  inside  with  him,  and  Landais  fears  the 
latter  as  no  Frenchman  ever  feared  the  English. 

The  alarms  of  Landais  are  well  grounded; 
Commodore  Paul  Jones  opens  negotiations  at 
once.  He  sends  word  to  Landais  to  give  com- 

223 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

mand  of  the  Alliance  to  Lieutenant  Degge,  and 
at  once  leave  the  ship.  The  word  is  supplemented 
by  the  assurance  that  at  the  end  of  twenty-four 
hours  he,  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  shall  come 
aboard  the  Alliance.  Should  he  then  find  Lan- 
dais,  he  will  be  put  in  irons. 

"  Why  not  arrest  the  scoundrel  at  once?  " 
pleads  Lieutenant  Dale. 

"  He  is  a  Frenchman,  Dick,'7  returns  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones,  "  and  I  fear  to  worry  Doctor 
Franklin."  Then,  assuming  a  look  of  cunning, 
vast  and  deep :  ' '  Wait  until  my  diplomacy  un 
folds  itself.  You  will  find  that  I  have  the  wis 
dom  of  the  serpent." 

Lieutenant  Dale  grunts  disgustedly.  He  cares 
nothing  for  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent,  less  for 
any  spun-glass  diplomacy.  What  he  wants  is  the 
Landais  blood  directly;  and  says  as  much. 

16  Bemember,"  he  goes  on,  "  this  murderer 
Landais  killed  Caswell  with  that  last  felon  broad 
side!  " 

"  I  shall  forget  nothing,"  returns  Commodore 
Paul  Jones. 

224: 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

At  the  end  of  twenty-four  hours,  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  boards  the  Alliance.  He  finds  Lieu 
tenant  Degge  in  command;  the  craven  Landais 
has  slipped  ashore  with  all  his  belongings.  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  is  the  last  man  he  cares  to 
face.  The  latter  tells  Lieutenant  Degge  to  clap 
the  irons  on  Landais,  should  he  return,  and  signal 
the  Serapis. 

"  You  must  understand,  sir,"  responds  Lieu 
tenant  Degge,  "  that  my  crew  is  honeycombed 
with  mutiny.  Captain  Landais  brought  about  a 
conspiracy;  two-thirds  of  the  ship's  company  are 
in  it." 

"  Make  me  out  a  list  of  the  leaders,  and  muster 
them  aft." 

Lieutenant  Degge  gives  Commodore  Paul  Jones 
Hie  names  of  twenty.  These  are  called  aft- 
lowering  and  sullen.  Commodore  Paul  Jones  or 
ders  them  transferred  to  the  Serapis. 

"  I'll  send  you  an  even  number  to  take  their 
places,"  he  says  to  Lieutenant  Degge.  "  Mean 
while,  my  old  sea- wolves  will  lick  them  into  patri 
otic  shape.  Should  they  fail,  you  may  find  some 

225 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

half  dozen  of  the  ringleaders  at  least,  dangling 
from  my  yardarms. ' ' 

The  caitiff  Landais,  driven  from  his  ship,  fumes 
and  blusters.  He  tries  to  see  the  French  Ambas 
sador,  and  is  refused.  Then  he  sends  a  challenge 
to  Commodore  Paul  Jones. 

Lieutenant  Dale  finds  the  latter  mariner  in  his 
cabin,  blandly  triumphant. 

"  There, "  he  cries,  tossing  the  Landais  chal 
lenge  over  to  Lieutenant  Dale — i  i  there,  Dick,  read 
that !  You  will  then  see  what  I  meant  by  telling 
you  to  wait  until  my  diplomacy  had  had  time  to 
unfold." 

"  But  you  don't  mean  to  fight  the  creature?  ' 
and  Lieutenant  Dale  glances  up  from  his  reading, 
horrified. 

"  Fight  him;  and  kill  him,  sir!  Why  not?  Do 
you  suppose  for  a  moment  that  poor  Caswell  is 
to  go  unavenged?  ' 

"  But  think  what  you  do !  You  can't  fight  this 
fellow!  The  man  is  to  be  court-martialed." 

"  Ah,  yes,  Dick!  But  observe;  I've  as  yet  re 
frained  from  making  formal  charges  against  him. 

226 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

So  far  as  the  books  go,  lie  rates  as  well  as  you 
or  I." 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  gets  this  off  with  inex 
pressible  slyness,  as  one  who  discloses  the  very 
heart  of  his  cunning. 

"  But  my  dear  Commodore,"  returns  Lieuten 
ant  Dale,  desperately,  "  the  thing  is  impossible! 
This  Landais  is  not  a  gentleman !  He  is  the  com 
monest  of  blacklegs." 

"  Dick!  Dick!  "  remonstrates  Commodore  Paul 
Jones;  "  you  do  him  an  injustice!  Technically 
at  least  you  wrong  him.  You  should  summon  up 
more  fairness.  Now,  here  is  how  I  look  at  it:  ' 
Commodore  Paul  Jones  grows  highly  judgmati 
cal.  "  I  follow  the  law,  which  says  that  a  man  is 
supposed  to  be  innocent  until  he's  shown  to  be 
guilty.  Influenced  by  this,  which  to  my  mind 
breathes  the  very  spirit  of  justice,  I  make  it  an 
unbreakable  rule,  in  matters  of  the  duello,  to  re 
gard  every  man  as  a  gentleman  unless  the  con 
trary  has  been  explicitly  demonstrated.  No, 
Dick  " — this  solemnly — "  Landais,  whatever  you 

227 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

or  I  may  privately  think,  has  still  his  rights.    I 
shall  fight  him,  Dick." 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  sends  Lieutenant  May- 
rant  ashore,  as  his  representative,  to  accept  the 
Landais  challenge. 

"  I  should  have  sent  you,  Dick,"  he  explains 
to  Lieutenant  Dale,  who  inclines  to  the  cloudy  be 
cause  he  had  been  slighted;  "  but,  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  couldn  't  trust  you.  Yes ;  you  'd  have  cut 
in  between  us,  and  fought  him  in  my  stead.  And 
the  fact  is,  if  you  must  have  it,  I've  set  my  heart 
on  killing  the  rogue  myself." 

Lieutenant  Mayrant  finds  Landais,  vaporing 
and  blustering. 

"  Pistols;  ten  paces,"  says  Lieutenant  May- 
rant.  "  Time  and  place  you  may  settle  for  your 
self." 

"Pistols !  "  exclaims  Landais,  his  face  a  muddy 
gray.  Pistols  and  Paul  Jones  mean  death.  With 
a  gesture,  as  though  dismissing  an  unpleasant 
thought,  he  cries :  "  I  shall  not  fight  with  pistols ! 
They  are  not  recognized  in  France  as  the  weapons 
of  a  gentleman!  ' 

228 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  They  are  in  America,"  retorts  Lieutenant 
Mayrant.  "  Neither  shall  you  palter  or  split 
hairs!  Pistols  it  shall  be;  or  I  tell  you  frankly 
that  the  officers  of  the  Serapis,  ay!  the  very  foc'- 
sel  hands,  will  beat  you  and  drub  you  for  a  cow 
ardly  swab,  wherever  they  come  across  you/' 

Landais  does  not  respond  directly  to  this.  He 
walks  up  and  down,  stomaching  the  hard  words 
in  silence.  For  he  perceives,  as  through  an  open 
window,  that  the  hidden  purpose  of  Lieutenant 
Mayrant  is  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  him.  At  last 
Landais  makes  it  clear  that  under  no  compulsion 
will  he  fight  with  pistols.  Neither  will  he  give 
the  hopeful  Mayrant  an  opening  to  edge  in  a 
challenge  for  himself.  After  a  fruitless  hour  the 
latter,  sad  and  depressed,  returns  aboard  the 
Serapis. 

"  Nothing  could  have  been  handled  more  deli 
cately,"  he  reports  to  Commodore  Paul  Jones; 
"  but,  do  my  best,  sir,  I  couldn't  coax  the  rascal 
to  the  field." 

The  next  day  Lieutenant  Dale,  making  a  flimsy 
excuse  about  wishing  to  see  the  French  secretary, 

229 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

goes  ashore.  He  is  using  a  crutch ;  for,  like  Lieu 
tenant  Mayrant,  he  was  wounded  in  the  battle. 
He  finds  the  crutch  inexpressibly  convenient. 
Having  hunted  down  Landais,  whom  he  finds  in 
a  change  house,  he  uses  it  to  belabor  that  person 
age,  giving  him  the  while  such  descriptives  as 
"dog!"  "spy!"  "liar!"  "coward!"  The 
heavy  Dutchmen,  quaffing  their  beer,  interfere  to 
save  Landais  from  the  warlike  Lieutenant  Dale. 
That  night  Landais  starts  post  for  Paris,  to  the 
mighty  disappointment  of  Commodore  Paul 
Jones. 

"  You  told  me  you  wanted  to  see  the  French 
secretary.  It  wasn't  fair  of  you,  Dick!  "  is  all 
Commodore  Paul  Jones  says,  when  he  learns  of 
the  doings  of  Lieutenant  Dale  and  his  crutch  in 
the  change  house. 

' l  Well !  ' '  grumbles  Lieutenant  Dale  defen 
sively,  "  so  I  did  want  to  see  the  French  secre 
tary  ;  although  I  've  now  forgotten  what  it  was  all 
about.  The  sight  of  that  dastard  drove  it  from 
my  head. ' ' 

The  French  Ambassador  again  boards  the 
230 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Serapis.  He  bears  orders  from  De  Sartine,  the 
French  Minister  of  Marine,  and  a  letter  from 
Doctor  Franklin,  full  of  suggestions  which  have 
the  force  of  orders.  The  Pallas  is  a  French  ship, 
and  the  Scarboro',  captured  by  it,  is  a  French 
prize.  The  Serapis,  prize  to  the  Richard,  also  a 
French  ship,  is  by  the  same  token  a  French  prize. 
The  French  flag  must  be  hoisted  on  these  ships, 
and  the  trio  made  over  to  the  French  Ambas 
sador.  The  Alliance,  an  American  built  ship,  the 
King  of  France  doesn't  claim.  He  recommends, 
however,  that  it  run  up  French  colors,  as  a  diplo 
matic  method  of  quieting  Dutch  excitement,  which 
is  slowly  but  surely  rising.  Doctor  Franklin's 
letter  sustains  the  French  claim  to  the  Pallas,  the 
Scarboro'  and  the  Serapis.  He  leaves  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  to  settle  flags  for  the  Alliance  as  he 
may  deem  best.  The  Ambassador  makes,  in  this 
connection,  a  second  tender  of  a  Captain's  com 
mission  in  the  French  Navy. 

"  No,"  responds  Commodore  Paul  Jones  bit 
terly,  "  I  shall  not  accept  it.  King  Louis  shall 
have  the  Serapis,  the  Pallas  and  the  Scarboro', 

231 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

since  Doctor  Franklin  so  orders.  The  Alliance 
and  I,  however,  shall  remain  American. " 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  gives  the  French  Am 
bassador  possession  of  the  Serapis.  Also,  he 
waxes  sarcastic,  and  intimates  that  it  is  the  only 
way  by  which  the  French  could  have  gotten  the 
Serapis  into  their  hands.  This  piece  of  wit  does 
him  no  good,  when  later  he  asks  it  back  from  De 
Sartine.  Sullen  and  dogged,  he  prepares  to  go 
aboard  the  Alliance,  and  orders  the  crew  of  the 
Serapis  to  follow. 

Again  the  French  Ambassador  interferes. 
What  French  subjects  are  on  the  musters  of  the 
Alliance  and  Serapis  must  be  left  in  his  charge. 
Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  to  have  none  but 
Americans. 

At  this  some  sixty  Danes  speak  up.  They  may 
not  be  Americans,  but  at  least  they  are  not 
French.  Making  this  announcement,  the  gallant 
Scands  refuse  the  orders  of  the  French  Ambas 
sador,  and  pack  their  kits  for  the  Alliance.  These 
Danes  are  of  the  true  viking  litter,  with  yellow 
hair  and  steel-gray  eyes.  Their  action  comes  like 

232 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

balm  to  the  sore  heart  of  Commodore  Paul  Jones. 
Later  when  he  musters  his  reorganized  crew 
aboard  the  Alliance,  and  makes  them  a  brief  talk, 
he  speaks  of  the  desertion  of  the  French.  He  is 
interrupted  by  a  youth — small  and  light  and  deli 
cate.  The  youth  steps  out  from  among  the  sail 
ors,  and  with  him  come  four  others.  The  youth 
bows  half-way  to  the  deck. 

"  No,"  he  says — "  no,  Monsieur  le  Commo 
dore,  not  all  the  French  have  desert.  I,  Pierre 
Gerard,  am  still  with  you— I,  and  my  four  bold 
comrades,  who  are  brave  men." 

"  They  wants  to  stay,  sir,"  vouchsafes  Boat 
swain  Jack  Eobinson,  coming  forward  to  the  aid 
of  little  Pierre  and  his  companions.  "  An'  so, 
d'ye  see,  since  I  always  likes  to  encourage  zeal, 
I  stows  'em  away  in  the  long  boat  till  that  frog- 
eatin'  Ambassador  is  over  the  side.  An'  so,  here 
they  be,  game  as  pebbles,  an'  a  credit  to  the  sta'- 
board  watch. ' ' 

All  his  prisoners  and  wounded  have  been  put 
ashore,  under  arrangements  with  the  Dutch  and 
the  gouty  Sir  Joseph.  Aboard  the  Alliance,  Com- 

233 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

modore  Paul  Jones  finds  himself  at  the  head  of 
four  hundred  and  twelve  war-hardened  wolves  of 
the  sea,  American  blood  to  a  man,  all  save  the 
sixty  vikings,  and  little  Pierre  with  his  four. 


234 


CHAPTER  XX 

AIMEE   ADELE   DE   TELISOIST 

It  is  Christmas  day.  Out  of  the  furious  south 
west  blows  a  storm.  The  English  ships,  guard 
ing  the  mouth  of  the  Helder,  are  driven  from 
their  stations,  and  carried  far  out  to  sea.  Tired 
of  the  Texel,  with  its  French  and  English  and 
Dutch,  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  taking  advantage 
of  the  English  scudding  seaward  before  the  gale, 
runs  out  with  the  Alliance,  and  lays  her  nose  for 
the  English  coast,  in  the  very  face  of  the  weather. 

Being  Christmas  day,  when  Commodore  Paul 
Jones  puts  the  Dutch  coast  astern,  there  is 
plum  duff  and  double  grog  aboard  the  Alliance. 
These,  and  the  blue  water  beneath  their  fore-foot, 
mightily  cheer  the  hearts  of  the  crew.  The  exu 
berance  takes  shape  in  a  way  grateful  to  the  soul 
of  Commodore  Paul  Jones.  A  missive,  borne  by 
the  tarry  hand  of  Boatswain  Jack  Eobinson,  finds 

235 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

him  during  the  larboard  watch.  As  Boatswain 
Eobinson  rolls  aft,  the  whole  crew  follow  him,  a 
respectable  distance  in  the  rear. 

"  It's  a  deppytation, "  explains  Boatswain  Eob 
inson,  pulling  his  forelock— "  a  deppytation  of 
the  entire  ship's  company  down  to  cooks  an' 
cabin-boys,  an'  be  dammed  to  'em!  They  sets 
forth  their  views  in  a  round  robin,  which  I  hereby 
tenders. ' ' 

Boatswain  Eobinson  holds  out  a  square  of 
dingy  bown  paper.  It  is  signed  by  every  member 
of  the  crew,  beginning  with  the  redoubtable  Eob 
inson.  Commodore  Paul  Jones  reads  the  round 
robin,  which  is  written  in  black  sprawling  chaiv 
acters,  while  Lieutenant  Dale  who  comes  up  holds 
a  ship's  lantern.  Thus  runs  the  document,  the 
compilation  whereof  has  exhausted  the  forecastle. 

"  We  respectfully  request  you,  sir,  to  lay  us 
alongside  any  single-decked  English  ship  to  be 
found  in  these  seas,  or  any  double-decked  ship 
under  a  fifty." 

"  My  lads,"  says  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  when 
he  finished  reading  the  round  robin,  "  this  is  what 

236 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

I  like.  Our  ship  is  a  thirty-six,  our  biggest  gun 
a  twelve-pounder.  You  say  '  lay  her  alongside  a 
fifty  gun  ship,  with  her  lower  tier  of  eighteen- 
pounders.'  I  promise  that  I'll  do  my  best.  I'll 
cruise  between  St.  George's  Channel  and  the  Bay 
of  Biscay  two  full  weeks,  looking  for  what  you 
ask.  Still,  I  must  tell  you  that,  while  I've  plenty 
of  hope,  I've  little  expectation.  This  is  winter 
weather,  lads,  and  the  chances  of  our  finding  a 
fight  are  slim.  If  we  find  one,  however,  I  shall, 
by  way  of  compliment,  take  you  over  the  Eng 
lishman's  hammock  nettings  myself;  for  I  hold 
you,  man  and  boy,  to  be  as  stout  a  crew  as  ever 
primed  pistol  or  laid  cutlass  to  grindstone,  and 
one  that  it's  an  honor  to  lead.  Mr.  Bo 'sen,  pipe 
the  men  for'ard.  Mr.  Dale  will  give  orders  for 
another  ration  of  grog  all  'round.  And  so,  ship 
mates,  I  give  you  a  Merry  Christmas !  ' 

The  Alliance  goes  looking  for  a  British  fifty. 
But  nothing  comes  of  it.  Between  wind  and  snow 
and  biting  weather,  the  ships  have  deserted  the 
open  ocean,  like  wild  fowl,  for  the  friendly  shel 
tering  warmth  of  the  ports.  When  the  two  weeks 

237 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

are  up,  four  weeks  more  are  added  to  the  cruise 
by  common  consent.  Stores,  however,  are  running 
low,  and  following  six  weeks  futile  looking  about, 
Commodore  Paul  Jones  stands  in  for  the  Isle  au 
Groaix,  and  anchors  in  the  harbor  of  1 'Orient. 

It  is  February  fourteenth,  the  day  of  sweet  St. 
Valentine.  Also,  it  is  among  the  coy  and  blush 
ing  possibilities,  that  sweet  Saint  Valentine  has 
been  lying  in  wait  for  him;  for  our  sailor,  home 
from  sea,  finds  in  the  hands  of  his  agent  a  pretty 
note,  which  in  its  sequence  is  to  carry  him  into 
the  midst  of  much  tenderness  and  flowery  hap 
piness. 

The  note  is  from  his  good  friend,  the  Mar 
chioness  de  Marsan.  The  Marchioness  asks  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones,  when  he  is  next  in  1 'Orient 
and  can  spare  himself  from  his  ship,  to  visit  her 
at  her  palace.  Weary  with  the  sea,  sore  from  the 
loss  of  the  Serapis,  the  summons  falls  in  with  his 
tired  humor.  He  leaves  the  Alliance  in  charge  of 
Lieutenant  Dale,  and  goes  with  what  haste  he  may 
to  his  friend  the  Marchioness.  That  good  noble 
woman  kisses' him  on  both  cheeks. 

238 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  It  is  for  your  victory !  ' '  she  says.  l  i  France 
is  a-quiver  with  it !  ' 

As  Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  about  to  reply,  a 
girl  of  twenty  enters  the  room. 

"  Aimee  de  Telison,  Commodore,"  says  the 
Marchioness,  presenting  him.  Then  aside:  "  She 
is  my  ward — my  godchild!  Is  she  not  beauti 
ful?  " 

' '  Beautiful !  Skin  pink  and  white !  Teeth  like 
pearls  or  rice!  Damask  lips,  eyes  deep  and  lus 
trous  and  large!  Hair  a  flood  of  red  gold!  In 
form  a  little  rounded  goddess !  Beautiful !  ' 

Thus  run  the  thoughts  of  the  sailor,  as  the 
sweetness  and  witchery  of  the  vision  carries  his 
senses  along. 

"  Aimee  de  Telison!  "  he  repeats  in  a  whisper. 
"Who  is  she!  " 

The  Marchioness  hesitates ;  then  she  returns  in 
the  same  guarded  tones: 

' '  Who  is  she  ?    She  is  the  daughter  of  a  King. ' ' 


239 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ANTONY  AND  CLEOPATRA 

Presently  the  beautiful  Aimee  quits  the  room, 
and  the  good  Marchioness  de  Marsan  tells  her 
story. 

«  There  is  surely  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't 
know,  my  dear  Commodore/'  she  says;  "  since 
all  France  knows.  Aimee 's  mother  is  of  the  de 
Tiercelins — a  noble  house,  but  impoverished.  As 
a  girl  the  mother  was  ravishingly  lovely.  This 
was  in  the  days  of  Monsieur  le  Bel  and  the  Parc- 
aux-Cerfs.  The  old  king  saw  Mademoiselle  de 
Tiercelin;  the  Pompadour  did  not  object.  Aimee 
was  born;  and  presently  her  mother,  whom  the 
king  called  his  '  de  Bonneval, '  was  put  away  with 
a  pension.  The  Bonne vaPs  father  talked  loudly, 
and  was  sent  to  the  Bastile  as  a  '  Russian  spy.' 
One  may  say  what  one  will  in  the  Bastile;  the 
walls  are  thick  and  have  no  ears.  The  Pompa- 

240 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

dour  looked  after  poor  de  Bonneval  and  the  little 
Aimee.  She  married  the  mother  to  a  gentleman 
named  Telison.  The  Pompadour  died;  the  king 
died ;  Aimee  was  sixteen.  Her  stepfather  de  Teli 
son,  and  her  mother  de  Bonneval  neglected  her. 
They  said  '  She  is  a  Bourbon.  Let  the  Bourbons 
provide.'  So  I,  who  am  her  godmother,  took 
Aimee.  That  was  four  years  ago ;  and  now  it  is 
as  though  she  were  my  own  child  in  very  fact— 
I  love  her  so. ' ' 

"  But  the  present  king?  ' 

"  Thus  far  he  has  done  nothing  for  Aimee. 
She  goes  to  court ;  her  position  is  recognized ;  the 
king  is  kind.  But  you  know  the  cold  Savoy 
blood? — it  is  stingy!  However,  that  is  now  of 
little  moment  so  far  as  Aimee  is  concerned,  for  I 
am  rich." 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  established  at  the 
palace  of  the  good  Marsan.  Sailors  are  swift  to 
love;  the  image  of  Aimee  fits  into  his  heart  as 
into  a  niche  that  was  made  for  it. 

The  second  day  he  calls  on  the  Duchess  de  Char- 
tres— the  beautiful  girl-Duchess.  He  wears  a 

241 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

guilty  feeling  at  the  base  of  his  conscience.  For 
tunately  his  cheek  is  tanned  by  wind  and  weather, 
and  the  guilty  feeling  does  not  show. 

The  girl-Duchess  is  with  her  husband,  the  Duke 
de  Chartres,  who  has  quit  the  sea  for  the  shore, 
his  man-of-war  for  his  palace.  The  girl-Duchess 
receives  Commodore  Paul  Jones  in  something  of 
a  formal  manner,  which  is  a  relief  to  him.  His 
manner  is  also  formal,  which  is  not  a  relief  to 
her.  The  Duke,  who  makes  a  specialty  of  democ 
racy,  greets  him  with  bluff  cordiality  as  a  brother 
sailor.  He  congratulates  him  on  beating  the 
"  English  dogs,"  whom  he  hates  professionally. 
Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  modest  in  his  replies. 
For  he  is  not  thinking  of  the  Serapis,  but  on 
Aimee;  and,  with  the  eyes  of  the  girl-Duchess 
upon  him,  that  guilty  feeling  overlays  all  else. 

The  girl-Duchess  watches  him  through  half- 
shut  lids.  She  almost  guesses  the  truth;  for  she 
knows  of  the  good  Marsan,  and  Aimee.  Besides, 
she  is  a  woman,  and  clairvoyant  in  matters  of  the 
heart. 

After  an  hour  with  the  Duke  and  the  girl- 
242 


The     Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Duchess,  Commodore  Paul  Jones  goes  back  to  the 
good  Marchioness  de  Marsan  and  to  Aimee.  As 
an  excuse  for  his  own  idleness,  he  travels  down  to 
1 'Orient  and,  albeit  the  Alliance  is  as  fit  as  a 
fiddle,  sets  Lieutenant  Dale,  "  Dick  the  practi 
cal,"  to  overhauling  the  ship  from  truck  to 
keel.  Then  he  returns  to  the  good  Marsan  and 
Aimee. 

Now  he  spends  sunny  hours  in  the  beautiful 
Aimee 's  company,  and  his  love  creeps  and  grows 
upon  him  like  ivy  on  a  wall.  The  conqueror  is 
conquered;  the  invincible  is  overthrown.  As  for 
Aimee,  her  blue  eyes  become  a  deeper  blue,  her 
pink  cheeks  take  on  a  warmer  pink  when  he  is 
near.  And  the  good  Marsan  sees  it  all,  and  does 
not  interfere.  For  she  is  versed  in  the  world  and 
its  ways ;  and  this  is  France ;  and  after  life  comes 
death. 

When  the  ardent  sailor  would  be  too  ardent, 
Aimee  represses  him ;  the  barrier  of  her  modesty 
is  as  a  barrier  of  ice  between  them.  Thereupon 
he  loves  her  the  more,  and  refreshes  his  soul  with 
Shakespeare: 

243 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

16  Chaste  as  the  icicle 

That's  curdled  by  the  frost  of  purest  snow, 
And  hangs  on  Dian's  temple/7 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  goes  down  to  POrient 
again.  Not  so  much  to  see  after  the  Alliance,  as 
to  pique  his  love  and  give  it  edge.  For  absence 
makes  the  flame  burn  brighter,  and  Aimee  bursts 
upon  him  with  a  new  charm  when  he  has  been 
away. 

For  all  his  lovelorn  case,  however,  he  makes 
arrangements  for  his  two  pets,  Lieutenants  May- 
rant  and  Fanning,  to  go  privateering  for  the 
French,  and  gives  them  nearly  one  hundred  and 
fifty  of  his  fiercest  sea-wolves  to  bear  them  com 
pany. 

11  Why  keep  them  rusting  ashore,"  says  he, 
1 '  like  good  blades  in  their  sheaths !  No ;  let  the 
lads  sail  forth  with  letters  of  marque,  and  make 
their  fortunes." 

The  Serapis  is  held  by  the  French  as  a  king's 
prize,  and  de  Sartine  pays  Commodore  Paul  Jones 
twelve  thousand  dollars  as  his  share.  There  are 
other  thousands  from  other  prizes,  and,  after  a 
French  sort,  he  finds  himself  rich. 

244 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

When,  following  his  visit  to  1'Orient,  he  returns 
to  the  good  Marsan,  that  estimable  lady  is  dis 
covered  in  a  state  of  much  excitement.  The 
Duchess  de  Chartres  has  "commanded'  the 
presence  of  Commodore  Paul  Jones  at  her  palace. 

The  prospect  does  not  overcome  him.  He  re 
ceives  it  with  steadiness,  although  privily  a-quake 
because  of  that  feeling  of  guilt.  The  good  Mar 
san  's  excitement  is  supplanted  by  wonder  to  see 
him  take  his  honors  so  coolly. 

"Ah,  these  Americans!"  she  thinks.  Then, 
out  loud:  "  She  is  a  Bourbon,  my  Commodore! 
No  one  below  the  blood  royal  has  ever  received 
such  a  summon  s." 

In  spite  of  the  uplifted  palms  of  the  good  Mar 
san,  her  "  Commodore  "  refuses  to  be  impressed. 
He  will  go ;  since  no  one  should  decline  the  ' '  com 
mand  ' '  of  royalty.  But  he  will  go  calmly— hiding 
of  course  his  sense  of  guilt,  and  spreading  the 
skirts  of  his  conscience  very  wide  to  hide  it. 

Aimee  hears  that  he  is  to  go,  and  cannot  avoid 
a  little  flutter  of  alarm.  She  knows  her  beautiful 
kinswoman,  the  girl-Duchess — knows  the  spell  and 

245 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

the  power  of  her.  It  gives  the  tender  Aimee  a 
dull  ache  of  the  heart.  A  lone  feeling  of  help 
lessness  overwhelms  her,  as  fears  rise  up  for  her 
poor  love  that,  in  so  short  a  space,  has  become  the 
one  sweet  thing  in  life.  True,  she  herself  is  a 
Bourbon!  But  with  the  bar  sinister.  How  then 
shall  she,  obscure  and  poor  and  by  the  left  hand, 
hope  to  sustain  herself  in  the  heart  of  her  lover 
against  the  wiles  and  siren  wooings  of  one  who 
is  at  once  the  most  legitimate,  the  most  beautiful, 
and  the  most  wealthy  woman  in  France!  The 
tears  gather  in  the  soft  eyes. 

The  good  Marsan  goes  from  the  room;  for  she 
has  a  deal  of  sympathy  and  good  sense.  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones,  when  now  the  two  are  alone, 
draws  Aimee  to  him,  and  dries  those  tears  in  ways 
that  lovers  know.  For  the  first  time  he  folds  her 
in  his  arms  and  kisses  her  lips. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  also  the  last  time,"  she  thinks 
sadly. 

And  the  gallant  lover,  as  though  he  reads  her 
thoughts,  kisses  her  again,  and  vows  by  sword 
and  ship  to  love  her  always. 

246 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  finds  the  Duchess  de 
Chartres  in  spirits.  She  and  the  Duke  give  him 
a  suite  of  apartments  that  has  heretofore  been 
sacred  to  Bourbon  occupation  alone.  At  this  the 
sensation  that  rocks  the  Court  is  profound. 

It  even  reaches  the  rabbit-faced  king — weak 
rather  than  dull— at  Versailles,  and  gives  him  a 
shock.  He  draws  down  the  uncertain  corners  of 
his  undecided  mouth,  says  naught,  and  goes  out 
under  the  trees  to  feed  his  squirrels.  He  would 
be  wiser  were  he  to  go  out  into  the  starved  high 
ways  and  byways  of  his  oppressed  realm,  and 
feed  his  subjects.  Did  he  do  so,  he  might  even 
yet  avoid  that  revolution,  which  is  slowly  yet  ter 
ribly  preparing  itself  in  the  ante-chamber  of 
Time. 


247 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  FETE  OF  THE  DUCHESS  DE  CHARTRES 

The  Duke  and  Duchess  de  Chartres  give  a  grand 
banquet  in  honor  of  Commodore  Paul  Jones.  The 
Duchess  asks  Doctor  Franklin,  whom  she  esteems, 
and  calls  "  Monsieur  le  Sage  "  for  his  wisdom. 
Also,  to  please  the  worthy  doctor,  she  has  Madame 
de  Houdetot,  and  the  rest  of  his  Passy  friends, 
including  the  vivacious  Madame  Helvetius. 

"  Only,"  says  the  Duchess,  who  has  weaknesses 
that  favor  washtubs — "  only  I  trust  that  our 
'  Rich  Widow  of  Passy  '  will  wear  a  fresh  frock, 
if  only  to  give  us  something  to  talk  about. " 

The  good  Marsan  and  Aimee  are  among  the 
guests.  Indeed,  it  is  to  see  Aimee  and  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones  together  that  has  caused  the 
Duchess  de  Chartres  to  order  the  fete.  She  will 
bring  the  pair  beneath  her  eyes — the  young 
Aimee,  and  the  "  Commodore,"  who  has  become 

248 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

formal.     She  will  then  know  the  best  and  worst 
of  their  hearts. 

The  Duchess  is  right  in  this  assumption;  for 
you  may  no  more  hide  love  than  smoke.  With 
half-watchfulness,  she  readily  surprises  their 
secret.  Still  she  is  gay  and  light ;  for  her  heart 
is  the  heart  of  a  Bourbon,  and  the  heart  of  your 
Bourbon  is  never  a  breakable. 

She  seats  Commodore  Paul  Jones  on  her  right, 
which  is  the  thing  expected.  Aimee  is  on  his 
other  hand;  which  last  excites  his  suspicions- 
having  that  guilty  feeling— while  attracting  the 
attention  of  nobody  else.  Over  across  is  the  wise 
Franklin,  who  finds  himself  vastly  at  home  be 
tween  the  Houdetot  and  the  rosy  Helvetius,  who 
is  a  marvel  of  tidiness. 

The  Duchess  pays  a  deal  of  polite  attention  to 
Commodore  Paul  Jones. 

"  I  cannot  think,  my  dear  Commodore,"  she 
cries,  "  how,  with  your  ship  on  fire,  and  sinking 
under  your  feet,  you  had  courage  to  continue  the 
fight." 

"  Your  royal  highness  forgets.     To  surrender 

249 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

would  have  meant  a  postponement  of  the  bliss  of 
meeting  you." 

"  Now,  Bayard  himself,"  returns  the  Duchess, 
"  could  have  said  nothing  so  knightly!  " 

Aimee  glows  at  this.  In  the  face  of  her  fears, 
she  still  likes  to  hear  her  lover-hero  praised. 

"  There  is  a  promise!  "  exclaims  the  Duchess. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  reddens  through  the 
tan.  What  is  coming!  There  is  much  of  royal 
recklessness  in  the  Duchess'  royal  blood;  she  will 
now  and  then  say  a  bold  thing. 

1 1  You  promised, ' '  she  goes  on, l '  to  lay  an  Eng 
lish  frigate  at  my  feet." 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  relieved.  More,  he 
is  pleased,  since  the  Duchess  gives  him  a  chance 
to  be  dramatic.  He  sends  for  his  servant,  who 
brings  him  a  slim  morocco  case. 

"  Your  royal  highness,"  he  says,  unbuckling 
the  morocco  case;  "  I  shall  be  better  than  my 
word.  I  lay  at  your  feet,  not  a  frigate  truly,  but 
a  forty-four  gun  ship  of  two  decks.  Here  is  the 
token  of  it — the  sword  of  as  brave  a  sailor  as  ever 
sailed." 

250 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  presents  the  Duchess 
with  the  vanquished  sword  of  Captain  Pearson, 
which  he  has  taken  from  the  morocco  case.  The 
Duchess,  who  has  not  foreseen  this  return  to 
her  sally,  is  deeply  stirred.  She  receives  the 
sword,  and  presses  the  gold  scabbard  to  her 
lips. 

' '  It  is  dear  to  me  as  the  sword  of  a  conquered 
Englishman!  "  she  cries,  turning  with  swimming 
eyes  upon  the  company.  "  It  is  doubly  dear  when 
it  comes  from  my  Achilles  of  the  ocean!  ' 

There  is  a  buzz  of  admiration  about  the  tables. 
Aimee  herself  is  in  a  dream  of  happiness ;  for  she 
has  alarms  but  no  jealousies,  and  the  glory  of  her 
lover  is  her  glory. 

Before  the  guests  break  up  for  departure,  Doc 
tor  Franklin  and  Commodore  Paul  Jones  have  a 
word  together. 

"  I  have  asked  for  it,"  says  the  Doctor,  "  and 
de  Sartine  leads  me  to  think  that,  as  soon  as  the 
ship  is  refitted,  the  king  will  give  you  the 
Serapis. ' ' 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  brightens  to  a  sparkle. 
251 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  I  could  do  wonders  with  so  stout  a  ship,"  he 
replies. 

"  I  think  you  may  count  on  it,"  goes  on  the 
Doctor.  ' '  Indeed,  when  I  remember  in  what  man 
ner  the  French  came  by  the  Serapis,  I  cannot  see 
how  the  king  is  to  refuse." 

"  Should  I  get  it,  I'll  put  Dick  Dale  in  command 
of  the  Alliance.  There  shall  be  no  second  Lan- 
dais  you  may  be  sure!  " 

"  Speaking  of  the  Alliance,"  returns  the  Doc 
tor,  "  I  shall  send  it  to  America  as  soon  as  the 
overhaul  is  finished,  with  certain  munitions  of  war 
I've  collected." 

Commodore  Paul  Jones'  pulse  begins  to  beat 
uneasily.  Antony  does  not  want  to  leave  his 
Cleopatra.  What  the  Doctor  next  says,  sets  him 
to  renewed  ease. 

"  Lieutenant  Dale  might  better  take  the  Alli 
ance  across.  You  will  be  needed  here,  if  we  are 
to  coax  the  king  into  giving  you  the  Serapis. 
There  will  be  time  for  the  Alliance  to  return  be 
fore  the  Serapis  is  refitted." 

Doctor  Franklin  tells  how  he  has  formally  re- 
252 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

lieved  Landais  from  all  command,  and  ordered 
him  to  report  to  the  Marine  Committee  in  Phila 
delphia,  on  charges  of  cowardice  and  treason. 
Also,  Commissioner  Arthur  Lee  has  been  called 
home;  Congress  has  become  suspicious  of  his 
work. 

"  The  man's  a  greater  traitor  than  Landais!  ' 
cries  Commodore  Paul  Jones  heatedly. 

"  Without  expressing  myself  on  that  point," 
observes  the  Doctor,  eye  a-twinkle,  "  the  situa 
tion  produced  by  Mr.  Lee's  recall,  makes  another 
reason  why  Dale  should  sail  with  the  Alliance  and 
you  stay  here.  Mr.  Lee,  I  understand,  has  de 
cided  to  take  passage  home  in  the  Alliance." 

It  is  the  next  day;  the  Duchess  summons  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  to  the  morning-room,  where 
she  sits  alone  in  the  spring  sunshine. 

11  Your  love  is  like  your  ship,  my  friend,"  she 
observes.  "  It  goes  voyaging  from  heart  to  heart, 
as  the  other  does  from  port  to  port.  No,  not  a 
word!  I  promise  that  you  shall  not  break  my 
heart.  Come,  I  will  show  you  what  makes  me 
safe — safe  even  from  that  terrible  heart-rover  and 

253 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

sea-rover,  that  buccaneer  of  the  ocean  and  of  love, 
the  invincible  Paul  Jones." 

She  smiles;  but  there  is  that  about  the  smile 
which  reminds  one  of  the  hard  glitter  of  a  rapier. 
She  rings  a  bell,  says  a  low  word,  and  presently 
a  little  round-faced  boy  is  brought  in.  He  is  the 
baby  son  of  the  Duchess.  Commodore  Paul  Jones 
has  heard  of  the  little  boy;  but  this  is  his  earliest 
glimpse  of  him. 

He  is  a  handsome  child,  and  Commodore  Paul 
Jones  gazes  upon  him  with  admiration.  The  boy 
is  to  grow  up  and,  fifty  years  later,  sit  on  the 
French  throne  as  the  "  Citizen  King."  This, 
however,  is  a  secret  of  the  future,  and  neither  the 
mother  nor  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  as  they  look 
on  the  small,  round  face,  is  granted  a  least  glint 
of  it.  Eeleased  by  the  nurse,  little  Louis  Philippe 
toddles  across  to  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  pudgy 
hands  outstretched.  The  latter  catches  him  up 
and  kisses  him.  At  this  the  eyes  of  the  Duchess 
soften  with  mother-love. 

"  See!  "  she  remarks,  and  a  sigh  and  a  laugh 
struggle  for  precedence  on  her  lips — "  See!  he  is 

254: 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

like  all  of  us.  He  loves  you!  '  She  becomes 
grave.  "  There  is  my  resource!  "  she  goes  on. 
"  My  friend,  I  will  let  you  into  a  secret.  No 
man's  treason,  not  though  he  be  the  bewildering 
Paul  Jones  '  —this  with  a  tinge  of  wicked  em 
phasis — "  can  break  a  mother's  heart.  No;  she 
takes  refuge  in  her  child,  and  finds  his  kisses 
sweeter  than  a  lover's." 

She  takes  the  boy  out  of  his  hands,  and  kisses 
the  little  face  again  and  still  again.  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  says  no  word  of  protest,  explanation 
or  defence.  The  Duchess  is  taking  her  revenge; 
he  knows  it,  and  thinks  her  entitled  to  it.  More 
over,  he  is  beginning  in  his  own  heart  to  be  re 
lieved,  and  the  guilty  feeling  that  gnaws  his  con 
science  is  sensibly  dulled. 

The  nurse  returns  and  takes  the  boy.  The 
Duchess  gives  the  little  face  a  last  kiss.  Then  her 
glance  comes  back  to  Commodore  Paul  Jones. 

"  Yes,  my  friend,"  she  says;  "  love  your  red- 
haired  Aimee,  since  you  love  her:  I  can  give  you 
up;  for  even  though  you  leave  me,  you  leave  me 
a  Bourbon.  And  yet  I  feel  a  small  jealousy— 

255 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

just  a  little  stab!  For  that  stab,  my  friend,  you 
must  pay.  No  one  harms  a  Bourbon,  and  escapes 
unpunished."  This  is  said  half  quizzically,  half 
seriously.  "  Yes,  I  shall  have  my  revenge.  I  in 
tend  that  you  shall  marry  Aimee." 


256 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  WEDDING  WITHOUT  BELLS 

Doctor  Franklin  journeys  down  to  Lyons,  on 
some  secret  errand  of  his  own ;  lie  will  be  gone  a 
week.  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  at  home  with  the 
good  Marsan,  drunk  with  love,  forgets  the  blue 
of  the  ocean  in  the  blue  of  Aimee's  eyes.  One 
sun-filled  afternoon  he  is  disturbed  by  Lieutenant 
Dale,  who  stalks  in  with  a  scowl  on  his  usually 
steady  face. 

"  What  is  it,  Dick?  "  asks  Commodore  Paul 
Jones,  alive  in  a  moment. 

' '  Something  too  deep  for  me,  Commodore,  or  I 
shouldn't  be  here  with  the  tangle.  Commissioner 
Lee,  with  Landais,  has  taken  the  Alliance." 

"  What?  " 

"  It's  as  I  say.  Lee  declares  that  Doctor  Frank 
lin  had  no  authority  to  depose  Landais.  He,  Lee, 
has  restored  him  to  command,  and  the  pair  have 
possession  of  the  ship." 

257 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  What  did  you  do?  " 

"  I  did  nothing.  I'm  a  sailor,  and  pretend  to 
no  knowledge  of  the  limits  of  Mr.  Lee's  authority. 
Speaking  for  myself,  I  refused  to  serve  with  Lan- 
dais ;  and  Lieutenants  Stack,  McCarty  and  Lunt, 
and  Midshipman  Lindthwait  did  the  same.  We 
came  ashore,  and  Bo 'sen  Jack  Bobinson  at  the 
head  of  sixty  of  the  crew  came  with  us." 

Commodore  Paul  Jones,  while  Lieutenant  Dale 
talks,  is  thinking.  What  is  to  be  done!  Mani 
festly  nothing.  Doctor  Franklin  is  out  of  reach. 
Without  the  Doctor's  authority  no  one  can  med 
dle  with  Arthur  Lee,  who  still  has  his  powers  as  a 
commissioner.  Besides,  there's  the  Serapis;  it  is 
only  a  question  of  weeks  when  he,  Commodore 
Paul  Jones,  will  be  given  its  command.  Mean 
while,  Lieutenant  Dale  and  the  others  can  disport 
themselves  ashore,  as  he  does.  Let  Lee  and  Lan- 
dais  keep  the  Alliance,  since  they  already  have  it. 

11  You've  done  right,  Dick,"  he  says.  "  Stay 
ashore  then,  and  keep  the  lads  together ;  we  '11  wait 
for  the  Serapis.  Also,  King  Louis  has  given  Doc 
tor  Franklin  the  Ariel,  a  ship-sloop  the  size  of  the 

258 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

old  Ranger.    When  I  take  the  Serapis  to  sea,  Dick, 
you  shall  sail  Captain  of  the  Ariel." 

Lieutenant  Dale  goes  his  way,  and  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  returns  to  Aimee,  pleased  in  secret  to 
think  he  may  continue  unhindered  to  sun  himself 
in  her  smiles.  It  grinds  a  bit  to  think  of  the  ' '  dog 
Landais,"  and  the  "  traitor  Arthur  Lee,"  in  con 
trol  of  the  Alliance.  Still,  all  will  come  right ;  for 
is  he  not  to  have  the  Serapis?  And  while  he 
waits,  there  is  Aimee;  and  love  is  even  sweeter 
than  war.  So  he  goes  back  to  his  goddess,  with 
her  deep  eyes  and  red-gold  hair,  and  puts  such 
caitiff  creatures  as  Lee  and  Landais  outside  his 
thoughts.  It  is  for  Congress  to  deal  with  them. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  not  permitted  to  for 
get  Lee  and  Landais.  Within  the  hour,  he  is 
again  called  from  the  side  of  Aimee  by  his  friend 
Genet,  a  noble  upperling  in  the  French  foreign 
office. 

"  I  come  to  tell  you,"  says  Genet,  "  that  Cap 
tain  Landais  and  Monsieur  Lee  have  got  the 
Alliance." 

"  I  know!  " 

259 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

'  '  They  are  to  sail  in  three  days. ' ' 
61  Lieutenant  Dale  has  told  me." 

I  i  He  did  not  tell  you  that  we  have  issued  orders 
to  Thevenard,  who  commands  the  forts  at  the 
barrier,  to  sink  the  Alliance,  should  she  try  to  put 
to  sea." 

II  Sink  the  Alliance!  "  Commodore  Paul  Jones 
is  thunderstruck.    "  My  dear  Genet,  you  jest." 

"  No  jest,  my  friend.  The  orders  have  been 
given.  Should  the  Alliance  attempt  to  pass  the 
barriers,  Thevenard  will  fire  on  it  with  all  his 
hundreds  of  big  guns,  and  snuff  it  out  like 
a  candle.  It  is  by  request  of  your  Doctor 
Franklin." 

"  Do  you  tell  me  that  Doctor  Franklin  asks  you 
to  sink  the  Alliance?  ' 

"  He  has  asked  us — for  he  had  some  inkling  of 
the  designs  of  Lee  and  Landais — to  prevent  them 
sailing  away  with  the  ship.  We  know  of  but  one 
way  to  do  that.  We  must  sink  it,  since  we  have 
no  ship  here  to  arrest  them.  So  we  gave  the 
orders  to  Thevenard.  Those  orders,  however,  we 
did  not  impart  to  Doctor  Franklin;  and,  in  good 

260 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

truth,  I  tell  them  to  you  now,  not  as  a  French 
official,  but  as  a  friend." 

"  This  must  be  stopped!  "  cries  Commodore 
Paul  Jones,  his  habits  of  decision  and  iron 
promptitude  reassumed  in  a  moment.  "  What! 
Sink  two  hundred  brave,  good  men,  to  punish  a 
pair  of  traitors  ?  Never !  ' 

Genet,  who  makes  a  cult  of  red  tape,  shrugs  his 
shoulders  and  spreads  his  hands. 

11  It  is  too  late,"  he  says.  "  There  is  Doctor 
Franklin's  request.  I  cannot  countermand  the 
orders  to  Thevenard  until  he  withdraws  his 
request. ' ' 

"  I  shall  see  Thevenard!  " 

Two  hundred  and  eighty  miles  in  fifty-four 
hours !  An  unprecedented  thing !  And  yet  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  does  it,  and  rides  into  POrient 
in  time  to  prevail  on  General  Thevenard,  who  is 
his  friend  and  his  worshipper,  to  let  the  Alliance 
pass  free.  The  forts  would  else  have  sunk  the 
ship  with,  their  tons  upon  tons  of  metal.  He  saves 
the  Alliance  by  a  narrow  margin  of  hours,  and 
Lee  and  Landais  shake  out  their  sails  for  America. 

261 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  They  go  to  disgrace  and  grief,"  thinks  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones,  consoling  himself  for  their 
escape.  Then  he  considers  how  he  has  saved  the 
lives  of  more  than  two  hundred  honest  sailors, 
who  have  fought  well  for  flag  and  country,  and 
is  consoled  in  earnest. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  surrounded  by  sur 
prises.  He  is  met  on  the  road,  while  returning  to 
his  Aimee,  by  a  message  from  the  Duchess  de 
Chartres. 

1 1  Come  instantly  to  me !  ' ?  it  says. 

There  is  a  look  of  mingled  sorrow  and  resent 
ment,  with  over  all  a  hue  of  humor,  on  the 
Duchess'  bright  face  when  she  welcomes  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones. 

"  The  Marchioness  de  Marsan  and  I  have  ar 
ranged  it,"  she  says,  and  her  glance  is  wicked 
and  amused. 

"  Arranged  what!  " 

"  Your  marriage,  my  friend!  I  congratulate 
you !  You  and  your  red-haired,  blue-eyed  one  are 
to  wed." 

11  With  all  my  heart,  then!  "  says  he,  turning 
262 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

wicked,  too.  Manlike,  it  offends  his  vanity  that 
one  who  has  pretended  to  love  him  so  deeply 
should  be  now  so  ready  to  give  him  to  another. 
"  I  could  wish  no  fairer  fate." 

"  But  the  wedding  must  be  secret." 
"  Secret?  Believe  me,  I  shall  tell  all  France." 
"  And  ruin  the  blue-eyed  one!  Hear  me,  my 
Commodore — once  my  beloved,  ever  to  be  my 
friend!  I  have  had  a  world  of  trouble  in  your 
affairs.  I  arranged  with  the  Marsan;  but  only 
by  agreeing  that  the  marriage  be  buried  in 
secrecy.  You  know  much  of  the  sea ;  little  of  the 
shore  when  all's  said.  Should  the  king  hear  of 
Aimee  as  your  wife,  he  would  drive  her  from 
court. ' ' 

"  May  I  ask  why!  "  and  his  cheek  begins  to 
burn  angrily. 

"  You  forget  that  Aimee  is  a  Bourbon,"  re 
turns  the  Duchess,  with  a  fashion  of  malicious 
satisfaction.  He  has  deserted  her  for  his  Aimee ; 
it  is  her  revenge  to  irritate  his  pride.  i  i  You  are  a 
valorous  man,  and  the  king  makes  much  of  you. 
Besides,  you  beat  the  English,  whom  he  fears  and 

263 


The     Story     of     Paul     Jones 

hates.  And  yet  lie  does  not  forget  that  you  are 
a  peasant — as  I  did.  Marry  Aimee,  my  friend — - 
marry  a  Bourbon,  even  a  Bourbon  by  the  left 
hand,  and  King  Louis  will  bolt  the  doors  of 
France  in  both  your  faces.  Indeed,  the  Bastile 
might  be  the  end  of  it  for  your  Aimee. ' ' 

"  I  think  your  royal  highness  sees  unnecessary 
ghosts, ' '  he  replies,  with  a  sneer.  Just  the  same, 
that  linking  of  the  Bastile  and  Aimee  alarms  him. 
"  Without  pausing  to  question  the  king's  powers 
touching  Bastiles  and  French  doors,  I  may  tell 
you  he  has  already  heard  that  I  love  Aimee.  Doc 
tor  Franklin,  himself,  told  me." 

'  i  Love  Aimee !  Yes ;  love  her  as  much  and  to 
what  limit  you  will!  The  king  will  never  resent 
that.  But  do  not  let  the  whisper  that  you  have 
married  Aimee  reach  the  kingly  ear.  Can  you 
not  understand!  Here,  I  will  put  it  in  the  ab 
stract.  A  Princess  may  have  a  liaison  with  a 
peasant,  and  in  the  shadow  of  that  dishonor  she 
will  remain  forever  a  Princess.  Should  the  Prin 
cess,  in  some  gust  of  virtue,  be  swept  into  a  mar 
riage  with  the  peasant,  she  becomes  instantly  a 

264 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 


peasant.  It  is  one  of  those  strange  cases,  my 
friend,  where  the  word  t  wife  '  is  a  stain  and  the 
word  i  mistress  '  no  stain  at  all." 

It  is  midnight;  two  candles  burn  dimly  on  the 
altar  of  "  Our  Lady  of  Loretto."  The  great 
chapel  is  dark  and  vacant;  the  feeble  light  does 
not  reach  the  vaulted  roof,  and  the  groined  arches 
disappear  upward  in  a  thick  blackness. 

At  the  altar  stands  a  priest.  Near  the  rail  is 
gathered  a  group  of  four,  the  Duchess  de  Char- 
tres,  the  good  Marchioness  de  Marsan,  Aimee— 
heart  a-flutter,  her  pink  cheeks  hidden  in  a  veil— 
and  Commodore  Paul  Jones.  The  priest  draws 
the  Duchess  aside. 

"  Your  royal  highness,"  he  whispers,  plead 
ingly,  ' i  I  am  afraid. ' ' 

"  Afraid  of  whom,  pray!  ' 

11  The  king,  your  royal  highness." 

The  Duchess  makes  an  angry  motion  with  her 
hand,  while  her  little  boot  smites  the  stone  floor 
and  sends  an  echo  through  the  room's  vast 
emptiness. 

"  Father  Joseph,   observe!     You  are  my  al- 
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The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

moner.  Through  your  hands  I  give  fifty  thou 
sand  louis  to  the  poor  of  Paris,  and  keep  you  in 
fatness  besides.  It  is  I,  not  the  king,  whom  you 
should  fear." 

And  so,  before  the  flickering  altar  candles,  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  weds  Aimee  Adele  de  Telison. 
In  the  book  which  the  Duchess  and  the  good 
Marsan  sign  as  witnesses,  Father  Joseph,  with  a 
pen  that  shakes  a  little,  records  the  nuptials  of 
' '  Monsieur  le  Joignes  and  Mademoiselle  Adele  de 
Bonneval."  For  "de  Bonneval  "  was  the  dead 
King's  name  for  Aimee 's  mother  in  the  days  of 
Monsieur  le  Bel  and  the  Parc-aux-Cerfs. 


266 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THAT    HONEYMOON    SUB    EOSA 

The  Duchess  kisses  Aimee,  and  the  good  Mar- 
san  drives  back  to  her  palace  with  the  blissful 
ones  through  the  black  midnight  Paris  streets. 
Commodore  Paul  Jones  is  in  a  trance  of  happi 
ness.  Aimee  creeps  into  his  arms  and  whispers 
"  Mon  Paul,"  and  the  surrender  of  the  Serapis 
is  forgotten,  as  a  thing  trivial  and  transient,  in 
the  surrender  of  this  girl  with  the  glorious  red- 
gold  hair. 

Summer  runs  away  into  autumn,  and  the  brown 
tints  of  October  show  in  the  trees.  The  honey 
moon  has  been  one  of  secrecies  and  subterfuges, 
and  perhaps  the  tenderer  and  sweeter  because 
sub  rosa.  Commodore  Paul  Jones  tears  himself 
now  and  again  from  Aimee 's  arms  to  urge  the 
business  of  the  Serapis.  He  is  seconded  by  Aimee, 
to  whom  his  glory  is  as  dear  as  his  love. 

267 


The  Story  of  Paul  Jones 

Doctor  Franklin  tells  the  king  that  he  should 
give  Commodore  Paul  Jones  the  ship,  and  is  re 
ferred  to  de  Sartine.  The  oily  minister  slips 
away  from  the  proposal,  and  the  king  sends  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  a  "  Sword  of  Honor  "  and 
the  title  of  "  Chevalier."  The  impatient  sailor 
bites  his  lip,  and  gives  the  plaything  sword  to 
Aimee. 

"  I  asked  for  a  ship,  not  a  sword, "  says  he. 
' l  As  for  i  Chevalier, '  since  I  'm  already  a  Commo 
dore,  it  looks  like  promotion  down-hill. " 

"  The  king,'7  explains  Doctor  Franklin,  "  does 
not,  I  fear,  forgive  your  refusal  of  his  captain's 
commission  when  you  lay  at  the  Texel." 

' '  And  I, "  he  returns,  ' '  continue  to  regard  that 
offer  of  a  commission  as  a  piece  of  royal  imper 
tinence.  ' ' 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  determines  to  bring  the 
king  to  a  decision.  He  walks  in  the  royal  gar 
dens  with  his  ally,  Genet,  and  comes  upon  the 
king  feeding  his  interminable  squirrels.  The 
king — for  democracy  is  becoming  a  fashion- 
greets  Commodore  Paul  Jones  with  outstretched 

hands. 

268 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  But  do  not  tell  me,"  concludes  the  king, 
u  that  you  come  for  a  ship." 

"  It  is  to  ask  for  the  Serapis,  sire." 

The  poor  king  rubs  his  head,  his  vague  lip 
twitches,  while  the  unlocked  jaw  multiplies  the 
feebleness  of  his  weak  face. 

"  Chevalier,  I  cannot,"  he  returns.  In  a  tone 
of  pathos,  he  continues:  "  Congratulate  yourself, 
my  friend,  that  you  are  not  a  king.  You  would 
be  compelled  to  have  ministers,  and  they  would 
make  a  slave  of  you — as  they  have  of  me." 

"  It  is  over,"  says  Commodore  Paul  Jones,  to 
Doctor  Franklin.  "  There  is  no  hope  of  the 
Serapis." 

"  Take  the  Ariel,  then,  and  return  to  Philadel 
phia,"  replies  the  Doctor.  "  There  is  the  America, 
seventy-four  guns,  building  on  the  Portsmouth 
stocks.  I've  written  the  Marine  Committee  to 
give  you  that." 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  holds  Aimee  close.  He 
kisses  her  dear  lips.  ' '  In  the  spring  I  shall  re 
turn,  my  love,"  he  promises.  "  Three  little 
months,  and  you  are  in  my  arms  again." 

269 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

Aimee  whispers  something,  and  then  buries  her 
face  in  his  breast.  The  blush  she  is  trying  to  hide 
spreads  and  spreads  until  it  covers  the  back  of 
the  fair  neck,  and  the  red  of  it  is  lost  in  the  roots 
of  the  red-gold  hair. 

66  Good!  "  he  cries  in  a  burst  of  joy,  holding 
her  closer.  "  Good!  Now  I  shall  have  something 
to  dream  of  and  return  to." 

It  is  a  raw,  flawy  February  day  when  Commo 
dore  Paul  Jones  lands  in  Philadelphia.  Arthur 
Lee,  with  his  poisonous  mendacities,  has  pre 
ceded  him.  He  is  called  before  the  Marine  Com 
mittee,  to  reply  to  a  list  of  questions,  that  in  mis 
erable  effect  amount  to  charges.  Anger  eating  his 
heart  like  fire,  he  answers  the  questions,  and  is 
then  voted  a  resolution  of  thanks  and  confidence. 

Knowing  no  other  way,  he  seeks  a  quarrel  with 
Arthur  Lee,  the  fiery,  faithful  Cadwalader  at  his 
elbow.  Mad  Anthony  Wayne,  acting  for  him, 
meets  Arthur  Lee  informally.  The  latter  does 
not  like  the  outlook. 

"  "Who  is  he?  "  exclaims  Arthur  Lee,  invent- 
270 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

ing  a  defensive  sneer.  "  Either  the  son  of  a 
Scotch  peasant  or  worse,  and  a  man  who  has 
changed  his  name.  By  what  right  does  such  a 
person  demand  satisfaction  of  a  gentleman!  ' 

"  Permit  me  to  suggest/'  returns  Mad  Anthony, 
beginning  to  bristle,  "  that  I  shall  regard  a  re 
fusal  to  fight,  based  on  the  ground  you  state,  as  a 
personal  affront  to  myself.  More ;  let  me  tell  you, 
sir,  that  he  who  shall  seek  to  bar  Paul  Jones  from 
his  plain  rights,  on  an  argument  aimed  at  his  gen 
tility,  will  get  nothing  by  his  pains  but  the  name 
of  coward/' 

"  You  think  so?"  responds  Arthur  Lee,  his 
sneer  somewhat  in  eclipse  at  the  stark  directness 
of  Mad  Anthony. 

"  I  know  so,  sir.  When  you  speak  of  Paul 
Jones,  you  speak  of  the  conqueror  of  the  Drake 
and  the  Serapis.  Also,  when  you  deal  with  me,  you 
deal  with  one  who  is  the  equal  of  any  Lee  of  your 
family,  sir." 

Mad  Anthony  blows  through  his  warlike  nose 
ferociously,  and  Arthur  Lee  is  silent.  Meanwhile, 
the  excellent  Cadwalader,  ever  painstaking  in 

271 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

matters  of  bloodshed,  prepares  a  challenge,  which 
he  intends  shall  be  a  model  for  succeeding  ages, 
when  studying  the  literature  of  the  duello. 

It  is  at  this  pinch  that  the  peace-loving  Morris, 
helpless  and  a  bit  desperate,  brings  the  weight  of 
General  Washington  to  bear  upon  the  combative 
one.  The  ' '  Father  of  his  Country  ' '  succeeds 
where  Mr.  Morris  has  failed,  and  silences  all  talk 
of  a  duel.  As  a  reward  for  that  gentleman's 
eleventh-hour  docility,  he  prevails  upon  Congress 
to  give  Commodore  Paul  Jones  command  of  the 
half-built  America,  in  accord  with  the  request  of 
Doctor  Franklin,  already  in  its  dilatory  hands. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  goes  to  Portsmouth  to 
oversee  the  launching  and  the  equipment  of  his 
new  seventy-four.  Disappointment  dogs  him;  for 
Lord  Cornwallis  surrenders,  and  Congress,  in  a 
fit  of  foolish  generosity,  presents  the  America  to 
France,  as  a  slight  expression  of  its  thanks  for 
the  part  she  played  in  the  capture  of  that  English 
nobleman.  Commodore  Paul  Jones  sees  his  just- 
completed  seventy-four,  over  which  he  has  toiled 
like  a  poet  over  his  verse,  and  wherein  he  was  to 

272 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 


presently  sail  away  to  conquer  fresh  honors  for 
himself  and  his  Aimee,  hoist  the  French  flag  and 
receive  a  French  captain  on  its  quarter-deck. 
Steadying  himself  under  the  blow,  with  a  grim 
philosophy  which  he  has  begun  to  cultivate, 
he  goes  back  to  Philadelphia.  He  finds  letters 
from  France  awaiting  him;  one  is  from  his 
Aimee,  written  in  a  tremulous,  wavering  hand.  It 
must  have  borne  wonderful  news,  for  in  his  reply 
he  says: 

' t  Present  my  compliments  to  your  sister.  Tell 
her  to  exert  her  tenderest  care  toward  you  and 
her  sweet  little  godson.  Also  cover  him  with 
kisses  from  me." 


273 


CHAPTER   XXV 

CATHEKINE   OF   KTJSSIA 

Commodore  Paul  Jones,  nervously  irritable 
with  the  loss  of  the  America,  asks  leave  of  Con 
gress  to  go  as  a  volunteer  with  the  French  fleet, 
which  hopes  to  find  and  fight  the  English  in  the 
West  Indies.  Congress  consents,  and  he  sails 
southward  with  Captain  Vaudreuil,  to  fight  yel 
low  fever,  not  English,  and  return  much  shaken 
in  health.  As  a  solace  and  a  recuperative,  he 
sends  divers  cargoes  of  oil  to  Europe  on  a  specu 
lation,  and  makes  forty  thousand  dollars.  All  the 
time  he  is  pining  to  get  back  to  Paris,  his  Aimee, 
the  good  Marsan,  as  well  as  Aimee 7s  sister's 
11  sweet  little  godson,77  that  must  "  be  covered 
with  kisses.7'  He  is  detained  by  his  accounts  with 
the  government  and  his  claims  for  prize  money. 
After  heart-breaking  delays,  his  affairs  are  ad 
justed  ;  again  he  finds  himself  outward  bound  for 

274 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

France.  His  Aimee  meets  him  with  kisses  sweet 
as  heaven.  He  unlocks  her  white  arms  from  his 
neck,  and  asks  in  a  whisper: 

"  Where  is  he!  " 

"  He  is  dead!  "  she  says,  with  a  rush  of  tears. 

Then  she  carries  him  to  a  quiet  cemetery,  and, 
taking  his  hand,  leads  him  to  a  little  grave,  upon 
which  the  new  grass  has  not  grown  two  weeks. 
There  is  a  tiny  headstone  of  pale  granite,  and  on 
it  the  one  word: 

"  Paul." 

His  gaze  is  long  and  steadfast  as  he  holds  fast 
by  his  Aimee 's  hand.  Then  his  tears  are  united 
with  hers;  they  stand  bowed  above  the  little 
grave. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  and  his  Aimee,  while 
ever  together,  formally  conceal  the  tie  that  binds 
them.  He  has  business  with  the  king  about 
prize  money;  she  has  petitions  before  the  king 
about  the  blood  that  is  common  to  her  veins  and 
his;  and  both  the  good  Marsan  and  Doctor 
Franklin  say  it  is  better  that  the  king  should 
not  know.  And  so  the  king  goes  feeding  his 

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The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

squirrels  and  forgetting  his  people,  in  ignorance 
of  what  took  place  on  that  midnight  before  the 
candle-lighted  altar  of  Our  Lady  of  Loretto. 
But  the  wise  old  world  is  not  so  thick,  and  winks 
and  smiles  and  wags  its  wise  old  head ;  and  when 
ever  it  passes  a  pretty  cottage  in  the  Eue  Vivi- 
enne  it  points  and  whispers  tolerantly.  For  the 
wise  old  world  loves  lovers;  and  because  Aimee 
always  officially  resides  with  the  good  Marsan 
when  her  "  Paul  "  is  in  Paris,  and  actually  re 
sides  with  that  amiable  gentlewoman  when  her 
"  Paul  "  is  in  London,  or  Copenhagen,  or  else 
where  on  the  complex  business  of  those  prize 
moneys,  no  one  finds  fault.  And  so  four  years  of 
love  and  truth  and  sweetness^  four  beautiful 
years,  throughout  which  the  birds  sing  and  the 
sun  shines  always,  come  and  go  for  Commodore 
Paul  Jones  and  his  Aimee ;  and  every  noble  door 
in  France  swings  open  at  their  approach. 

The  prize  money  gets  into  a  tangle,  and  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  consults  his  friends,  Mirabeau 
and  the  venerable  Malesherbes.  Then  he  visits 
America,  and  is  feted  and  feasted,  while  his 

276 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 


Aimee — each  year  rounder  and  plumper  and 
more  bewitching— with  the  red-gold  hair  growing 
ever  redder  and  more  golden— stays  in  Paris  by 
the  side  of  the  good  Marsan,  and  keeps  a  loving 
eye  on  the  vine-clothed  cottage  in  the  Eue 
Vivienne. 

Nothing  can  exceed  the  honors  wherewith  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  is  stormed  upon  and  pelted 
while  in  America.  He  is  banqueted  by  the  Mor 
rises,  the  Livingstons,  the  Hamiltons,  the  Jays, 
while — what  is  more  to  his  heart's  comfort — he 
is  visited  by  Dale  and  Fanning  and  Mayrant  and 
Lunt  and  Stack  and  Potter  and  scores  of  his  old 
sea  wolves  of  the  Ranger  and  Richard,  who 
crowd  round  him  to  press  his  hand.  In  the  end 
he  drinks  a  last  cup  of  wine  at  the  Livingston 
Manor  House,  rides  down  to  the  foot  of  Cortlandt 
Street,  and  goes  aboard  the  Governor  Clinton, 
which,  anchors  hove  short,  awaits  him.  It  is  .his 
last  glass  in  America,  his  last  glimpse  of  the 
shores  for  which  he  fought  so  valorously;  No 
vember  sees  him  in  the  Straits  of  Dover,  nine 
teen  days  out  from  Sandy  Hook. 

277 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

He  goes  to  Paris,  and  the  king  has  him  to 
lunch  at  Versailles — a  nine-days'  social  wonder, 
the  like  of  which  has  not  been  witnessed  by  a 
staring  world  since  an  elder  Louis  dined  Jean 
Bart.  The  royal  luncheon  over,  Commodore  Paul 
Jones  again  settles  down  to  the  dear  smiles  and 
the  love  of  his  Aimee,  while  the  aristocracy  of 
France  lionizes  the  one  and  worships  the  other. 

One  day  Mr.  Jefferson,  now  America's  Minis 
ter  to  Versailles,  and  greatly  the  friend  of  our 
two  love  birds,  walks  in  upon  them  in  that  little 
vine-embowered  cottage  in  the  Rue  Vivienne.  He 
has  big  news.  The  Empress  Catherine  asks  Com 
modore  Paul  Jones  to  become  an  admiral  in  the 
Eussian  navy.  The  Turks  are  troubling  her ;  she 
wants  him  to  sweep  these  turbaned  pests  from 
the  Black  Sea. 

The  cheek  of  Commodore  Paul  Jones  flushes, 
his  eye  lights  up.  Between  love  and  war  his 
heart  was  formed  to  swing  like  a  pendulum.  Now 
he  has  loved  for  a  season,  he  would  like  nothing 
better  than  another  game  with  those  "  iron  dice 
of  destiny,"  vide  licet  cannon  balls;  and  where 

278 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

should  be  found  a  fitter  table  than  the  Black  Sea, 
or  a  more  eligible  adversary  than  the  Turk?  Thus 
it  befalls  that  his  Aimee  goes  to  court  with 
Madam  Campan,  the  noble  daughter  of  the  noble 
Genet,  and  translates  English  plays  into  French 
for  the  amusement  of  Versailles;  while  he, 
hot  of  heart  and  high  of  head,  as  one  who 
snuffeth  the  battle  afar  off,  makes  a  straight  wake 
for  St.  Petersburg. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  meets  the  Empress 
Catherine  in  her  Palace  of  Czarsko-Selo.  Out 
side  the  snow  lies  thick;  for  it  is  April,  and  win 
ter  is  ever  reluctant  to  quit  St.  Petersburg.  He 
is  pricked  of  curiosity  concerning  this  Russian 
Empress,  for  whom  he  is  to  draw  his  sword.  He 
hopes— somewhat  against  hope,  it  is  true,  when 
he  recalls  her  sixty  years— that  she  will  prove 
beautiful.  For  he  is  so  much  the  knight  of  ro 
mance  that  he  fights  with  more  pleasure  for  a 
pretty  face  than  for  a  plain  one. 

The  Empress  is  before  him;  he  can  now  put  his 
hopes  to  the  test.  His  eyes  fall  upon  a  thick, 
gross  figure— a  woman  the  antithesis  of  romance. 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Her  mouth  is  coarse,  her  nose  high  and  hawkish, 
her  forehead  full,  her  gaze  hard  and  level,  her 
whole  face  harsh — having  been  so  often  burned 
and  swept  of  passion.  And  yet  he  feels  the  power 
of  this  white,  fire-eyed  savage,  with  her  heart  of 
a  Phryne  and  her  brain  of  a  Henry  the  Eighth. 
There  is  so  much  that  is  palpable  and  brutish 
about  her,  however,  that  he  stands  off  from  her 
contact  and  remembers  with  regret  his  delicate 
Aimee  of  the  red-gold  locks. 

Commodore  Paul  Jones  has  been  too  well 
trained  as  a  courtier  to  let  fall  the  polite  mask 
which  he  wears,  and  nothing  could  be  more  elab 
orately  suave  than  are  the  manners  he  assumes. 
The  ferocious  Catherine  gets  some  glimmer  of  his 
inward  thought  for  all  that.  Every  inch  the 
Empress,  she  is  even  more  the  woman.  To  the 
day  of  her  death  the  unpardonable  offence  in  any 
male  of  her  species  is  a  failure  to  fall  in  love  with 
her.  She  receives  some  chilling  touch  of  her  new 
Admiral's  aversion,  and  it  turns  her  into  angry 
ice.  Still,  if  he  will  not  sigh  for  her,  he  shall  serve 
her:  so  she  says  to  herself.  He  remains  in  St. 

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The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Petersburg  a  fortnight;  the  Empress  sees  him 
more  than  once.  When  they  are  together,  they 
talk  of  Potemkin,  Suwarrow,  the  Turks,  and  the 
Black  Sea. 


281 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

AN    ADMIRAL    OF    RUSSIA 

Admiral  Paul  Jones  travels  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Dnieper  and  joins  Potemkin,  who  is  a  military 
fool.  Suwarrow,  old  and  cunning  and  vigilant 
and  war-wise,  is  another  man.  He  goes  aboard 
his  flagship,  the  Vladimir,  of  seventy  guns.  From 
the  beginning  he  is  befriended  by  the  grizzled 
Suwarrow  and  thwarted  by  the  foppish  Potem- 
kin.  This  latter  is  a  discarded  favorite  of  Cath 
erine;  and,  since  she  is  very  loyal  to  a  favorite 
out  of  favor,  he  knows  he  may  take  liberties.  Old 
Suwarrow,  over  his  brandy,  tells  Potemkin 's  story 
to  Admiral  Paul  Jones. 

"  He  kept  the  Empress'  smiles  for  a  season," 
explains  Suwarrow ;  ' '  when  all  of  a  sudden,  hav 
ing  seen  Moimonoff,  she  fills  Potemkin's  pockets 
with  gold  and  jewels,  gives  him  a  two-thousand- 
serf  estate,  and  bids  him  *  travel,'  as  she  bid 

282 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

twenty  of  his  predecessors  travel.  '  In  what  have 
I  offended?  '  whines  Potemkin.  '  In  nothing,' 
returns  the  Empress.  *  I  liked  you  yesterday;  I 
don't  like  you  to-day;  that  is  all.  So  you  see,  my 
friend,  that  you  can  no  longer  stay  in  Petersburg, 
but  must  travel!  '  This  was  ten  years  ago,"  con 
tinues  old  Suwarrow.  "  Potemkin  comes  down 
here,  and  the  Empress  puts  him  in  charge,  and 
sustains  him  in  all  he  says  and  does.  My  dear 
Admiral,  you  must  get  along  with  Potemkin  to 
get  along  with  her." 

Admiral  Paul  Jones  is  by  no  means  sure  that 
he  must  get  along  with  Potemkin,  and  regrets 
that  he  quitted  France,  which  holds  his  Aimee. 
However,  being  aboard  the  Vladimir,  and  having 
to  his  signal  twenty  ships,  he  resolves  to  strike 
one  blow  for  the  savage  Catherine,  if  only  to  see 
how  a  Eussian  fights  and  what  battering  a  Turk 
can  stand.  It  will  give  him  something  to  talk  of, 
something  by  which  he  may  compare  the  English 
and  French  and  Americans,  when  next  at  his  ease, 
with  Genet  or  Jefferson  or  mayhap  King  Louis 
as  a  fellow  conversationist. 

283 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

The  chance  comes;  Admiral  Jones  engages  the 
Turkish  fleet  off  Kinburn  Head,  and  destroys  it 
after  sixteen  hours '  fighting — sinking  some,  burn 
ing  others,  breaking  completely  the  power  of  the 
Crescent.  The  Turks  bear  a  loss  of  twenty-nine 
ships  and  more  than  three  thousand  sailors,  while 
Admiral  Paul  Jones  loses  but  three  small  ships. 
Having  advantage  of  the  victory,  old  Suwarrow 
brings  his  army  across  the  Boug.  At  one  blow, 
Admiral  Paul  Jones  unlocks  the  Liman  and 
throws  it  open  to  the  victorious  entrance  of  old 
Suwarrow. 

Oczakoff  falls ;  Admiral  Paul  Jones,  sick  of  the 
cowardice  and  duplicity  of  Potemkin  and  his  para 
site  Nassau-Siegen,  relinquishes  his  command. 
He  bids  old  Suwarrow  good-bye,  and  travels  in  a 
manner  of  lordly  leisure,  not  at  all  Eussian,  but 
particularly  American,  back  to  St.  Petersburg  and 
the  Empress.  As  he  bids  farewell  to  old  Suwar 
row,  the  latter  detains  him : 

"Wait!  " 

Then  he  takes  from  one  of  his  camp  chests  a 
priceless  cloak  of  sea-otter  and  sable,  lined  with 

284 


The     Story    of    Paul    Jones 

yellow  silk,  and  an  ermine  jacket,  white  as  snow, 
set  off  with  heavy  gold  frogs. 

"  Take  them,  mon  Paul,"  says  the  old  soldier, 
pressing  them  upon  Admiral  Paul  Jones.  "  They 
are  too  fine  for  me."  Here  he  looks  complacently 
at  his  threadbare  gray  coat  and  muddy  boots. 
"  No;  were  I  to  wear  such  feathers,  my  soldiers, 
who  are  my  children,  wouldn  't  know  their  old  papa 
Suwarrow. ' ' 

The  Empress  receives  Admiral  Paul  Jones  in 
her  palace  of  the  Hermitage.  She  is  affable,  con 
descending,  appreciative,  and  assigns  him  to  com 
mand  the  naval  forces  in  the  Baltic.  She  makes 
him  rich  in  gold;  for,  while  the  Empress  will  so 
far  humor  Potemkin  as  to  remove  Admiral  Paul 
Jones  out  of  his  way,  she  will  not  fail  of  doubly 
rewarding  that  mariner  for  the  victory  which  Po 
temkin  is  now  trying  to  steal. 

Admiral  Paul  Jones  grows  dissatisfied,  how 
ever.  The  Eussian  nobility  intrigues  against  him, 
and  de  Segur,  the  French  Minister,  must  come  to 
his  rescue.  They  steal  his  letters  from  Aimee; 
and,  not  hearing  from  his  beloved,  he  becomes 

285 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

homesick.  He  tells  the  Empress  that  he  must  go ; 
she  consents  when  he  promises  to  continue  draw 
ing  full  pay  as  Admiral.  That  agreed  to,  she  al 
lows  him  leave  of  absence  for  two  years,  and  back 
he  goes  to  Paris  and  his  Aimee's  arms.  He  calls 
on  De  Segur,  the  French  Minister,  before  he 
starts,  and  thanks  him  for  his  friendship. 

"  But  you  will  return?  "  says  De  Segur. 

' '  Never !  I  want  no  more  of  Eussia  and  its  Eus- 
sians!  What  is  this  Court  of  Catherine,  but  a 
place  where  vilest  purposes  are  arrived  at  by 
agencies  most  wretched,  and  artifices  that  should 
disgrace  a  dog  ?  I  am  of  an  honor  unfit  for  such  a 
place,  as  silk  is  unfit  for  mire.  The  very  people 
are  without  charity  or  a  commonest  humanity. 
They  are  like  the  wolves  of  their  own  forests; 
should  they  discover  one  of  their  brothers, 
wounded  or  stricken  down,  instead  of  offering 
aid,  they  would  fall  upon  him — rending  and  de 
vouring  him !  ' ' 

6 '  Sixteen  long  months !  Sixteen  dreary  months 
you  have  been  gone!  "  says  Aimee,  when  they 
are  again  together  at  the  cottage  in  the  Eue  Vi- 

vienne. 

286 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

' t  They  are  over,  little  one, ' '  he  replies,  ' '  over, 
never  to  return.     Aside  from  being   separated 
from  you,  which  is  to  be  separated  from  the  sun  ' 
— here  he  caresses  her  red-gold  hair — *  *  they  were 
the  sixteen  months  most  miserable  of  my  life." 


287 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   HOUSE  IN  THE  EUE  TOUKKTON 

And  now  dawn  many  days  of  love  and  peace 
and  plenty  for  Admiral  Paul  Jones,  days  in  the 
midst  of  friends,  glad  days  made  sumptuous  by 
a  beautiful  woman,  who  is  a  king's  daughter 
crowned  with  a  wealth  of  red-gold  hair.  He  has 
his  business,  too,  and  embarks  in  speculation; 
wherein  he  shows  himself  as  much  a  sailor  of 
finance  as  of  the  sea.  The  imperial  Catherine  re 
fuses  to  lose  him;  but  pays  to  the  last  like  an 
Empress,  bidding  him  prolong  his  vacation  while 
he  will.  He  grows  rich.  He  has  twelve  thousand 
pounds  in  the  bank;  while  in  America,  Holland, 
Denmark,  Belgium  and  England  his  interests 
flourish.  He  sells  his  plantation  by  the  Eappa- 
hannock  for  twenty-five  hundred  dollars — less 
than  a  dollar  an  acre;  for  he  says  that  he  has 
no  more  heart  to  own  slaves,  and  the  plantation 
cannot  be  worked  without  them. 

288 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

The  little  happy  cottage  in  the  Rue  Vivienne 
grows  small ;  neither  is  it  magnificent  enough  for 
his  Aimee,  of  whom  each  day  he  grows  more 
proud  and  fond.  So  he  removes,  bag  and  bag 
gage,  to  a  mansion  in  the  Eue  Tournon.  There 
the  rooms  are  grand,  ceilings  tall,  fireplaces  hos 
pitably  wide. 

The  wide  fireplaces  will  do  for  winter ;  just  now 
he  swings  a  hammock  in  the  back  garden,  which 
is  thick-sown  of  trees  and  made  pleasant  by  a 
plushy  green  May  carpet  of  grass.  Here  he  lolls 
and  reads  and  receives  his  friends.  For  the  care 
ful  Aimee  counsels  rest,  and  much  staying  at 
home ;  because  he  is  a  long  shot  from  a  hale  man, 
having  been  broken  with  that  fever  in  the  West  In 
dies,  and  in  no  wise  restored  by  the  mists  and 
the  miasmas  of  the  Dnieper  marshes. 

Through  the  summer  the  back  garden  is  filled 
with  chairs,  and  the  chairs  are  filled  by  friends. 
In  the  autumn,  and  later  when  winter  descends 
with  its  frosts,  the  chairs  and  the  incumbent 
friends  gather  in  a  semicircle  about  the  wide 
flame-filled  crackling  fireplaces.  There  be  times 

289 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 


when  the  wine  passes ;  and  the  freighted  mahogany 
sideboards  discover  that  they  have  destinies  be 
yond  the  ornamental. 

French  politics  bubbles  and  then  boils;  Paris 
is  split  by  faction.  Mirabeau  controls  the  Assem 
bly;  Lafayette  has  the  army  under  his  hand — a 
weak,  vacillating  hand!  These  two  are  of  the 
Moderates. 

Admiral  Paul  Jones,  coolly  neutral  in  what  sen 
timents  go  shaking  the  hour,  has  admirers  in  the 
parties.  They  come  to  him,  and  talk  with  him, 
and  drink  his  wines  in  the  shade  of  the  back  gar 
den,  or  by  the  opulent  fireplaces.  Eobespierre 
and  Danton,  as  well  as  Mirabeau  and  Lafayette, 
are  there.  Also,  Bertrand  Barere,  who  boasts 
that  he  is  not  French  but  Iberian,  one  whose  for 
bears  came  in  with  Hannibal.  Later,  Barere  will 
preach  an  open-air  sermon  on  the  "  Life  and 
Deeds  of  Admiral  Paul  Jones/'  Just  now  in  the 
Assembly  he  makes  ferocious  speeches,  garnished 
of  savage  expletives  culled  from  the  language  of 
the  Basques. 

"Warmest  among  friends  of  Admiral  Paul  Jones 
290 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

is  the  Tketford  corset-maker  Tom  Paine,  with  his 
encarmined  nose  and  love  of  freedom.  Also 
Gouverneur  Morris,  who  has  succeeded  Mr.  Jef 
ferson  as  America's  Minister  in  France,  comes 
often  to  the  Rue  Tournon.  The  pair  are  with  him 
every  day ;  and  because  all  three  like  politics,  and 
no  two  of  them  share  the  same  views,  dispute  is 
deep.  Aimee  of  the  red-gold  hair  takes  no  part 
in  these  discussions,  but  sits  watching  her  "Paul" 
with  eyes  of  adoration,  directing  the  servants, 
with  a  motion  of  the  hand,  to  have  a  care  that  the 
debaters  do  not  voice  their  beliefs  over  empty 
glasses. 

Admiral  Paul  Jones,  while  a  republican,  gives 
his  sympathies  to  the  king,  in  whom  there  is 
much  weakness,  but  no  evil. 

"  They  must  not  kill  the  king!  "  says  he. 

"  And  why  not?  "  demands  Tom  Paine,  whose 
bosom  distills  bitterness,  and  who  holds  there  are 
no  good  kings  save  dead  kings.  "  Has  France  no 
Cromwell  ?  We  are  both  born  Englishmen,  Paul ; 
our  own  people  ere  this  have  killed  a  king. ' ' 

"  Tom,"  cries  Admiral  Paul  Jones,  heatedly, 
291 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  Cromwell  and  England  should  not  be  cited  as 
precedents  here.  King  Louis  is  no  Charles ;  and, 
as  for  Cromwell,  there  isn't  the  raw  material  in 
all  France  to  make  a  Cromwell." 

Gouverneur  Morris  says  nothing,  but  sips  his 
wine ;  remembering  that,  as  the  minister  of  a  for 
eign  nation,  he  should  bear  no  part  in  French 
politics. 

The  Parisian  rabble  insult  the  king,  and  La 
fayette,  in  command  of  the  military  about  the 
Tuileries,  sadly  lacks  decision.  Then  comes  the 
"  Day  of  Daggers;  "  the  poor  king,  advised  by 
the  irresolute  Lafayette,  yields  to  the  mob,  and 
the  assembled  notables  are  disarmed.  The  anger 
of  Admiral  Paul  Jones  is  extreme.  He  breaks 
forth  to  his  friend  Tom  Paine : 

"  Up  to  this  time  I've  been  able  to  find  reasons 
for  the  king's  gentleness;  but  to-day's  action  was 
not  gentle,  it  was  weak.  I  pity  the  man — beset  as 
he  is  by  situations  to  which  he  is  unequal.  La 
fayette  cannot  long  restrain  the  sinister  forces 
that  confront  him.  He  has  neither  the  head  nor 
the  heart  nor  the  hand  for  it.  This  is  a  time  for 

292 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

grapeshot.  I  only  wish  that  I  might  be  in  com 
mand  of  those  thirty  cannon  parked  about  the 
palace,  and  have  with  me,  even  for  a  day,  my 
old  war-dogs  of  the  Ranger  and  the  Richard.  Be 
lieve  me,  I  should  offer  the  mob  convincing  rea 
sons  in  support  of  conservatism  and  justice;  I 
should  teach  it  forbearance  at  the  muzzles  of  my 
guns.7' 

"  But  the  rabble  might  in  its  turn  teach  you," 
retorts  Tom  Paine,  with  a  republican  grin. 

"  Bah!  "  he  exclaims,  snapping  contemptuous 
fingers.  "  They  of  the  mob  are  but  sheep  mas 
querading  as  tigers.  One  whiff  of  grapeshot,  and 
they  would  disappear.'7  Then  he  continues, 
thoughtfully:  "  Their  saddest  trait  is  their  lev 
ity.  They  are  ridiculous  even  in  their  patriotism. 
Their  emblems,  representative  of  the  grand  sen 
timents  they  profess,  are  as  childish  as  the  lan 
guage  in  which  they  proclaim  them  is  fantastic. 
There  is  the  red  cap!  Borrowed  from  the  gut 
ters,  they  make  it  the  symbol  of  sovereignty !  As 
though  a  ship  were  better  for  being  keel  up." 


293 


The. Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Mirabeau,  with  his  lion's  face,  comes  in.  He 
is  in  a  fury,  and  declares  that  Lafayette  is  a  prac 
tising  hypocrite  in  his  pretences  of  attachment  to 
the  king. 

"  Hypocrisy!  "  cries  Mirabeau.  "  That,  at 
least,  is  a  lesson  in  the  school  of  liberty  he  never 
learned  from  Washington." 

Others  of  the  Moderates  arrive,  and  join  in  the 
conversation. 

"  You  must  understand,  gentlemen,"  observes 
Admiral  Paul  Jones  warmly,  ' '  that  I,  in  my  time, 
have  fought  eight  years  for  liberty.  But  I  did 
not  fight  with  the  decrees  of  blood-mad  Assem 
blies,  or  the  plots  of  secret  clubs." 

Those  present  smile  tolerantly;  for  the  mighty 
Paul  is  a  person  of  many  privileges,  the  one  man 
in  France  who  may  speak  his  mind. 

"  You  do  not  deeply  respect  the  Assembly?  ' 
remarks  Mirabeau,  with  a  sour  smile. 

"  The  Assembly?  What  is  it?  A  few  who  talk 
all  the  time,  and  a  great  many  who  applaud  or 
hiss !  Everything  about  it  is  theatrical.  It  strug 
gles  for  epigram  not  principle,  and  the  mem- 

294 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

bers  would  sooner  say  a  smart  thing  than  save 
France. ' ' 

Paris  is  turmoil  and  uproar  and  tumult.  To 
keep  his  mind  from  that  strife  which  surrounds 
him,  and  into  which  he  longs  to  plunge,  Admiral 
Paul  Jones  puts  in  hours  with  his  secretary, 
Benoit-Andre,  dictating  his  journals.  Also,  busi 
ness  calls  him  to  London,  where  he  is  much  cele 
brated  by  the  Whigs.  He  hobnobs  with  Fox  and 
Sheridan,  while  Walpole  carries  him  away  to 
Strawberry  Hill.  He  is  with  Walpole,  when  word 
arrives  that  Mirabeau  is  dead. 

"  What  will  be  the  effect  in  Paris!  "  asks  Wal 
pole. 

"  What  will  be  the  effect?  It  will  unchain  the 
worst  elements.  The  Assembly  will  now  go  to 
every  red  extreme.  While  Mirabeau  lived,  that 
strange  concourse  of  evil  spirits  had  a  master. 
He  is  gone;  the  animals  are  without  a  keeper." 

Admiral  Paul  Jones  returns  to  Paris,  and  finds 
a  letter  from  Mr.  Jefferson,  now  Secretary  of 
State.  Mr.  Jefferson  asks  him  to  discover  how 
far  Europe  will  co-operate  to  crush  out  piracy  in 

295 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

the  Mediterranean.  Also,  he  explains  that  Presi 
dent  Washington  will  want  the  services  of  Ad 
miral  Paul  Jones  when  he  sends  an  expedition 
against  the  Barbary  States. 

While  he  is  reading  Mr.  Jefferson's  letter,  a 
deputation  from  the  Assembly  waits  on  him,  and 
sets  forth  informally  that  it  is  the  present  French 
purpose  to  reorganize  the  navy,  and  call  him, 
Admiral  Paul  Jones,  to  the  command. 

"  Would  you  accept!  "  asks  the  deputation. 
'  It  would  be,  gentlemen, "  he  returns,  "  the 
part  of  prudence,  and  I  think  of  modesty,  to  de 
fer  crossing  that  bridge  till  I  come  to  it." 

When  the  deputation  goes  away,  he  calls  Benoit- 
Andre,  and  sits  long  into  the  night  dictating  a 
treatise  on  reforming  the  French  navy.  He  points 
out  how  its  present  inefficiency  arises  from  the 
fact  that,  for  centuries,  it  has  been  the  feeding- 
ground  of  a  voracious  but  incompetent  aristoc 
racy,  a  mere  asylum  for  impoverished  second 
sons,  and  other  noble  incapables.  He  sends  a  copy 
of  his  treatise  to  Walpole,  who  writes  him  a 
letter. 

296 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

"  My  dear  Admiral,"  says  he  of  Strawberry 
Hill;  "let  France  go.  Either  return  home  to 
America  and  rest  upon  your  laurels,  or  come 
over  to  England,  where  even  those  who  do  not 
love  you  admire  you.  You  have  fought  under 
two  flags;  isn't  that  enough?  I  take  your  pam 
phlet  to  be  simply  a  bid  for  a  commission  in  the 
new  French  navy,  and,  because  I  love  and  ad 
mire  you,  I  hope  it  will  fail.  It  will  be  better  so. 
Your  laurels,  won  off  Flamboro'  Head,  will  else 
be  turned  to  cypress,  when,  as  a  French  admiral, 
you  become  the  target  of  British  broadsides,  with 
none  of  your  stout  Yankee  tars  to  stand  by  and 
man  your  guns." 

The  winter  is  at  an  end;  the  grass  of  spring  is 
starting.  Admiral  Paul  Jones  receives  a  letter 
from  President  Washington,  who  speaks  of  the 
Barbary  States,  and  asks  him  to  give  up  his  com 
mission  in  the  Russian  service.  There  have  been 
two  whose  requests  with  him  were  ever  final — 
Franklin  and  Washington.  He  does  not  hesitate, 
but  forwards  his  resignation  to  Catherine.  She 
will  not  accept,  and  puts  forward  old  Suwarrow. 

297 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

'  '  Do  not,  my  good  brother, ' '  writes  the  old  sol 
dier—  "  do  not  let  any  siren  entice  you  from  the 
service  of  the  Empress.  Your  Frenchmen  are 
preparing  a  stew  of  mischief  that  must  soon  keep 
all  Western  Europe  busy  to  save  themselves. 
That  will  be  Russia's  time.  We  shall  then  have 
a  free  hand  with  the  Turk.  Our  command  of  the 
Black  Sea  is  safe.  Since  you  were  there,  we  have 
built  nine  new  ships  of  the  line,  and  six  stout 
frigates.  You  shall  have  them  all.  Also,  I  can 
now  protect  you  from  Court  intrigues,  which  I 
could  not  do  before.  Courtiers,  since  Ismail,  no 
longer  trouble  me;  I  brush  them  away  like  flies. 
In  a  new  Turkish  campaign,  I  would  be  Generalis 
simo  by  land  and  sea;  you  would  be  responsible 
to  no  one  but  me — a  situation  which,  I  flatter  my 
self,  would  not  be  intolerable  to  you.  Now,  my 
good  brother,  the  Empress  has  a  copy  of  this  let 
ter,  and  agrees  with  all  I  say.  Make  no  entangle 
ments  in  the  west ;  return  to  your  old  papa  Suwar- 
row  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  we  shall  discuss 
plans." 

Old  Suwarrow's  missive  fails  of  its  hoped-for 
298 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

effect.  Admiral  Paul  Jones  gets  out  President 
Washington's  letter  and  reads  it  again.  Then  he 
sends  a  polite  but  peremptory  resignation  to 
Catherine,  and  ends  forever  with  the  Russians. 

"  But,  mon  Paul,"  says  Aimee,  who  looks  over 
his  shoulder,  "  what  a  compliment!  England, 
France,  Russia,  America— the  whole  world  calls 
you!  And  the  answer  to  all  '  —here  a  kiss — "  is 
that  you  shall  stay  with  your  Aimee  until  she 
coaxes  back  your  health. ' ' 


299 


CHAPTEE  XXVIII 

LOVE  AND   THOSE  LAST  DAYS 

Aimee  is  right.  Admiral  Paul  Jones,  never  his 
old  sound  self  since  that  last  cruise  in  the  West 
Indies,  is  ill.  Gourgaud  says  it  is  his  lungs,  and 
commands  him  to  take  care  of  himself.  He  obeys 
by  sticking  close  to  the  red-gold  Aimee,  and  the 
pleasant  house  in  the  Eue  Tournon,  with  its  fire 
places  in  the  winter  and  its  tree-shaded  back  gar 
den  in  the  summer — summer,  when  the  hammock 
is  swung. 

Now  a  stream  of  visitors  pours  in  upon  him. 
Even  the  poor  king,  in  the  midst  of  his  troubles, 
sends  to  ask  after  the  health  of  the  "  Chevalier 
Jones. "  At  odd  hours,  when  visitors  do  not  over 
run  him,  he  dictates  his  journals  to  Benoit- Andre, 
while  Aimee  gently  swings  his  hammock  with  her 
white  hand. 

It  is  a  hazy  July  day;  the  drone  of  pillaging 
bees,  busy  among  the  flowers,  fills  the  back  gar- 

300 


The  girl  with  the  red-gold  hair. 


Pace  300. 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

den  in  the  Rue  Tournon.  It  is  one  of  Admiral 
Paul  Jones'  "  good  days;  "  a-swing  in  his  ham 
mock,  he  chats  with  Major  Beaupoil  about  a  recent 
dinner  at  which  he  was  the  guest  of  Jacobin  honor. 

"  It  was  at  the  Cafe  Timon,"  he  says,  "  a  fa 
vorite  rendezvous  of  the  Jacobins.  Believe  me, 
Major,  while  I  cannot  speak  in  highest  terms  of 
the  Jacobins,  I  can  of  the  Cafe  Timon.  One  day 
I  hope  to  take  you  there." 

Gouverneur  Morris  is  announced.  He  tells  Ad 
miral  Paul  Jones  of  advices  from  Mr.  Jefferson, 
and  that  Mr.  Pinckney  has  been  selected  Minister 
to  St.  James. 

"  What,  to  my  mind,"  concludes  Mr.  Morris, 
"is  of  most  consequence,  Mr.  Pinckney  bears 
with  him  from  President  Washington  your  com 
mission  as  an  Admiral  in  the  American  navy. 
You  are  to  be  ready,  you  note,  to  sail  against 
those  Barbary  robbers  when  the  squadron  arrives. 

"  I  shall  not  alone  be  ready,"  he  returns,  "  I 
shall  be  delighted."  He  springs  from  the  ham 
mock,  and  takes  a  quick  turn  up  and  down  the 
garden.  The  prospect  of  a  brush  with  the  swarthy 

301 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

freebooters  of  the  Mediterranean  animates  him 
mightily. 

Other  visitors  are  announced.  Barere,  Lafay 
ette,  Carnot,  Cambon,  Vergniaud,  Marron,  Collot, 
Billaud,  Kersaint,  Gensonne,  Barbaroux  and 
Louvet  one  after  the  other  arrive.  Laughter  and 
jest  and  conversation  become  the  order  of  the 
afternoon;  for  all  are  glad,  and  argue,  from  his 
high  spirits,  the  soon  return  to  health  of  Admiral 
Paul  Jones.  There  has  been  no  more  cheerful 
hour  in  the  Rue  Tournon  back  garden.  Corks  are 
drawn  and  glasses  clink. 

The  talk  leaves  politics  for  religion.  "  My 
church,"  observes  Admiral  Paul  Jones — "my 
church  has  been  the  ocean,  my  preacher  the  North 
Star,  my  choir  the  winds  singing  in  the  ship's 
rigging." 

"  And  your  faith?  "  asks  Major  Beanpoil. 

"  You  may  find  it,  my  dear  Major,  in  Pope's 
Universal  Prayer: 

'  Teach  me  to  feel  another's  woe, 

To  hide  the  faults  I  see; 
That  mercy  I  to  others  show, 
Such  mercy  show  to  me.' 

302 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 


"  There!  "  he  concludes,  "  I  call  that  stanza  a 
complete  boxing  of  the  religious  compass. " 

Gourgaud  looks  in  professionally,  and  is  in 
clined  to  take  a  solemn  view  of  his  patient's  health. 
He  rebukes  him  for  running  about  the  garden 
among  his  guests. 

"  You  should  not  have  permitted  it,"  says 
Gourgaud,  admonishing  Aimee  with  upraised 
finger. 

"  But  he  refused  to  be  restrained!  "  returns 
Aimee,  ruefully. 

"  Gourgaud!  "  the  patient  breaks  forth  cheer 
ily,  "  you  know  the  aphorism:  At  forty  every 
man  is  either  a  fool  or  a  doctor.  Now  I  am  over 
forty ;  and,  as  a  fellow-practitioner,  I  promise  you 
that  our  patient,  Paul  Jones,  is  out  of  danger 
and  on  the  mend."  Then,  gayly:  "  Come,  Gour 
gaud,  don't  croak!  Take  a  glass  of  wine,  man; 
you  frighten  Aimee  with  your  long  looks. ' '  Gour 
gaud  takes  his  wine;  but  his  looks  are  quite  as 
long  as  before. 

Abruptly  and  apropos  of  nothing,  Admiral  Paul 
Jones  decides  to  make  his  will. 

303 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

'  '  Your  will !  ' '  protests  Gouverneur  Morris, 
somewhat  aghast.  "  But  you  haven't  been  in  such 
health  for  months." 

"  Not  on  account  of  my  health,"  he  explains, 
"  but  because  of  those  Barbary  pirates." 

Notaries  are  brought  in  by  Benoit-Andre,  and 
the  will  is  drawn.  The  gallant  testator  is  for 
giving  all  to  his  Aimee. 

* '  The  house  you  already  have, ' '  says  he ;  i  *  and 
also  an  annuity.  Now  I  leave  you  the  rest;  and 
Beaupoil"  shall  be  executor,  with  Morris  as  a  wit 
ness.  There;  it  is  arranged!  ' 

But  it  is  not  arranged.  The  red-gold  Aimee 
points  out  that  he  has  certain  nieces  and  nephews 
in  Scotland  and  Virginia;  they  must  not  be  for 
gotten.  He  yields  to  amendments  in  behalf  of 
those  nieces  and  nephews.  Then  the  will  is  sealed 
and  signed. 

"  It  has  eased  my  mind,"  he  says,  giving  the 
document  into  the  hands  of  Major  Beaupoil  for 
safe-keeping—4'  it  has  eased  my  mind  more  than 
I  supposed  possible."  Then,  with  a  look  at 
Aimee:  "  There  will  be  enough,  petite,  to  take 

30-1 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

care  of  you,  even  though  our  friends  here  turn 
the  country  bottom-side  up.  Luckily,  too,  the 
property  is  in  England  and  America  and  Holland, 
where  values  stand  more  steadily  than  they  do  in 
France. " 

Aimee  remembers  the  "  Sword  of  Honor, " 
given  by  King  Louis  for  that  victory  over  the 
Serapis. 

"  You  always  declared  it  should  go  to  your 
friend,  Dale,"  she  says. 

"  Soldo  still!  " 

Aimee  brings  the  sword.  She  presses  the  gilt 
scabbard  to  her  lips ;  then  she  puts  it  in  the  hands 
of  her  "  Paul."  He  half  draws  the  blade,  and 
considers  it  with  an  eye  of  pride. 

1 '  You  see  this  sword  ?  "  he  remarks  to  Gouver- 
neur  Morris,  "  Should  I  die,  carry  it  with  my 
love  to  Dick  Dale— my  good  old  Dick,  who  did 
more  than  any  other  man  to  help  me  win  it !  ' 

It  is  nine  o'clock;  night  has  fallen.  The  many 
friends  have  gone  their  homeward  ways.  The 
back  parlor  of  the  house  in  the  Eue  Tournon  is 
peaceful  and  still. 

305 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

Admiral  Paul  Jones  sits  in  his  cushioned  easy- 
chair  reading  a  volume  of  Voltaire.  Now  and 
then  he  addresses  to  Aimee  some  comment  of 
agreement  or  disagreement  with  his  lively  author. 
Aimee  offers  no  counter  comments,  but  smiles  ac 
cord  to  everything;  for  her  heart  is  lighter  and 
her  bosom  more  tranquil  than  for  many  a  day,  as 
she  basks  in  the  sunshine  of  new  hopes  for  the 
restoration  of  her  "  Paul." 

Some  duty  of  the  house  calls  Aimee.  She 
leaves  her  "  Paul  '  —the  lamplight  shining  on  the 
pages  of  the  book,  his  loved  face  in  the  shadow. 
She  pauses  at  the  door,  her  deep,  soft  eyes  full 
of  worship. 

Aimee  is  on  the  stair  returning.  An  ominous 
sound  reaches  her  ears!  Her  heart  grows  cold; 
alarm  seizes  her  by  the  throat,  as  though  a  hand 
clutched  her!  She  knows  by  some  instinct  that 
the  end  has  come,  and  her  "  Paul  "  lies  dead  or 
dying !  She  can  neither  move  nor  cry  out ! 

Presently  she  regains  command  of  herself. 
With  quaking  limbs  she  mounts  the  stair.  The 
door  of  the  back  drawing-room  stands  open.  The 

306 


The    Story    of     Paul    Jones 

lamp  still  burns,  but  its  radiance  no  longer  lights 
the  pages  of  the  philosopher  of  Fernay.  They 
fall  across  the  motionless  body  of  her  il  Paul." 
He  lies  with  head  and  shoulder  resting  on  a  couch, 
which  he  was  trying  to  reach  when  stricken  down. 
Aimee  gazes  for  one  horror-frozen  moment. 
Then,  with  a  wailing  sob,  as  from  the  depths  of 
her  soul,  she  throws  her  arms  about  him.  She 
covers  the  marble  lips  with  kisses — those  daunt 
less,  defiant  lips!— while  her  thick  hair,  breaking 
from  its  combs,  hides,  as  with  a  veil  of  red  and 
gold,  the  loved  face  from  the  prying  lamp. 


Napoleon  is  reading  those  gloomy  despatches 
which  tell  of  Trafalgar.  Crushing  the  paper  in 
his  hand,  he  paces  the  floor,  his  pale,  moody  face 
swept  by  gusty  emotions  of  pain  and  anger  and 
disappointment. 

"  Berthier,  how  old  was  Paul  Jones  when  he 
died?  " 

"  Forty-five,  sire." 

There  comes  a  gloom-filled  silence;  the  gray, 
307 


The    Story    of    Paul    Jones 

brooding  eyes  seek  the  floor  in  thought.  Then  the 
pacing  to  and  fro  is  resumed,  that  hateful  des 
patch  still  clutched  fast  in  the  nervous  fingers. 

"  Berthier:  Paul  Jones  did  not  fulfil  his  des 
tiny." 


THE    END 


308 


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